


Wait and Hope

by Elywyngirlie



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 19th century AU, Count of Monte Cristo Inspired, F/M, Gen, Shipping and Treasures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elywyngirlie/pseuds/Elywyngirlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey waited for years for her husband, Captain Ben Solo, to return from his last journey to sea. For three years she waited until one evening, Hux shows up with an offer: marry me or lose all that you love. She scrambles to find a way to outsmart him and the First Order Bank, ruining the town with disastrous loans. Meanwhile a new person has moved into the small seaside village--Kylo Ren, a wealthy foreigner who seems bent on ruining the First Order Bank in general and Hux in particular. </p><p>This is what "Patience" started as but was deleted for this new work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bits of Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is my Star Wars TFA 19th century sailing and banking AU. I had posted the first chapter as a work called "Patience" but it has been deleted for the new title and some re-working. As the plot developed, I felt the need to go back to make some changes. I hope you enjoy it. Posts on weekends. Reylo is hinted throughout but our boy comes in a bit later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All human wisdom is contained in these two words - Wait and Hope”  
> ― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

Rey pushed her breath out forcefully, leaning over and slowly stretching her aching muscles in her back. If she didn’t work them more fully soon, she knew from experience that she’d wake up stiff and sore. She stepped away from the plow and spent a moment moving her body around until her muscles felt warm and loose again. Shrugging, she slipped back on the plow straps, whistled to the mule, Bebe, and followed him patiently as he trudged over the fields. 

The farm wasn’t much, she knew, but it was enough. She could provide for herself, her family, and have a little aside for trade or sell, same with hens and eggs. Astrid was out there now, feeding the hens, chasing the roosters to one side. She smiled faintly as she guided Bebe back to the stables for a cool down. She had sold the horse after the tragedy but kept the mule. Sure, he kicked like the devil himself when riled, but he was faithful and steady. Those two traits were in short supply in her life and she valued them highly.

Rey pumped cold water over her hands and splashed some on her face, sucking her breath through her teeth. The chilly water eased some of the heat from her skin. April’s sun was fiercer than usual, prompting her to plant sooner than she had planned. She had stored well but did not count on having to turn over the fields quite so soon and was borrowing Old Man Bacca’s plow as the one she frequently rented was engaged elsewhere. Chewbacca’s plow  was too big and too heavy for her but as she rubbed the water over her arms, she surveyed her little plot and knew she could take it back in the next day. The heaviest work would be done by morning. She just hoped the rains would come soon and help.

Rey lived on a small farm on a hill overlooking a small  but picturesque seaside village. Most of the villagers worked on merchant ships, gone for months at a time, little plots next to their homes to add to what they purchased. Times were changing, Mother Leia once remarked over tea. More people were abandoning the fields for the banks and stores, to find different ways to put bread on the table. After years scrambling for a bite to eat, Rey preferred having her own land, making her own meal. The deed, giving her the bit of earth, was framed and hung above the mantle. She didn’t enjoy the knowledge of how she got it but she would make it fruitful now.

And she did. Rey was nothing but a hard worker, admired by most who met her. She grew staple vegetables, leaving one bit of field fallow each year, with a couple goats for milk and cheese, her mule for work, a wagon for carrying, and a few apple trees to enliven her table. Her meat pies and apple pies were good enough that people would come by and ask her to bake for their family events. She was recently paid quite a bit for a wedding cake, made with almond meal and decorated with fresh flowers for a young couple just engaged and the husband off to sea again.

Rey exhaled and pushed back the pain that threatened to rise. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing.

“It will get easier,” Mother Leia said. Rey opened her eyes to see Leia leaning against the doorframe, her hair in elaborate braids, twisted around her head. She had a black shawl, made with real Irish lace, wrapped around her shoulders. Since her husband, Han, had died, she had taken to wearing the trinkets he had brought her from his adventures. Like Rey, she had lost her husband to the sea. Gone on a regular voyage, never to return.

“She’s a hard mistress, but it gets easier. The sea gives us other bounties,” Leia consoled her. Rey took in Leia’s strength in one glance and decided that work was the only cure for her aching heart.

“She’s given me nothing, the sea has,” Rey replied. “All she does is take.” Leia trailed Rey into the kitchen, the smell of earthy and sweet honey bread filling her nostrils. It should be done rising and Rey whipped the towel off the bowl to see the perfectly molded mound. She smiled in satisfaction as she punched it down, kneaded it a few more times, before placing it in a pan and popping it in the giant black oven in the corner. Her husband had given her all the modern conveniences before he had gone out to sea and the wood stove kept her house warm all winter.

“I was in town this morning, reviewing what was going on at council,” Leia was saying as she poured them tea. “Aldous Hux asked after you.” Rey snorted. Leia smiled faintly. “You’re a young woman, Rey. He’s not so awful, apparently. He owns a fleet of ships and can keep you well provided for. You don’t need to work so hard.” Rey turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. Leia chuckled and nodded her chin toward Rey. “Look at your hands. Those are an old woman’s hands. They won’t get any better. Who will help take care of those hands as you age?”

“I will take care of Mama,” came the clear strong voice from the corner. Rey smiled faintly and watched her daughter march into the room, her head held high, her glossy black hair in two long pigtails.  

“Of course you will. Our Astrid is bright and lovely and fearless,” Leia smiled indulgently at her only grandchild. Astrid beamed at Leia and came over to her mother, presenting cleaned hands and ears. They spent the rest of the evening preparing for dinner, Rey speaking gently with her little daughter. Astrid was tall for a three year old girl, her nose and cheeks dusted with dark freckles, wide lips often smiling. Rey was glad that she didn’t have her father’s ears but could see him every day in her dark eyes. She rubbed her chest and shook her head. Melancholy accomplished nothing.

After putting Astrid to sleep, she lit a few lamps so Leia could review investment reports--Rey put no stock in those slips of paper. She wanted the dirt in her hands, the hard products from the land. Those could not be disputed.  Rey ambled outside to look at the sea. A half moon glimmered behind fleeting clouds, faintly streaking the sea with cold light. Rey could hear the murmur of the town below, the horses on the path back from town. She could see the ships bobbing in the harbor. Only then, alone, at the end of the day, did she let the tears come. It would be three years tomorrow since Ben Solo’s disappearance, three and half since her father in law Han Solo died. She hated the sea, hated how it ripped families apart and placidly lapped at the shore as if the world had not been torn asunder.

 

The next afternoon, Rey and Astrid were riding in the wagon to Chewbacca’s farm. The plow was in the back.

 “Mama, I cannot understand Mr. Bacca when he talks,” Astrid was complaining. Her eyes brightened as she watched a flock of bird wheel into the clear sky. It was another cloudless day and Rey was worried. Over two weeks without rain and planting season was underway. She needed the rain badly.

“Look at that!” Astrid exclaimed, all seriousness gone from her face. Rey smiled and whistled at the mule, slapping the reins slightly, so that he would pick up the pace. Great farm animal, slower than a tortoise in a race with the wagon.

Finally they pulled into the sprawling Takodana farm. Chou “Chewie” Bacca was once Han Solo’s best friend. They met on one of Han’s sailing adventures and Chewie followed him back to the American seaport. Hardly anyone could understand Chewie through his thick accent but they all fell deeply in love with his kindness, humor, and bravery.  He wooed a gorgeous and wealthy woman, Maz Kanata, who translated easily enough for him and ran the farm with a firm hand. Their farm was large, boasting some of the finest horses and crops in the region. They also were known for their generosity, never turning away a stranger at their door an banding together over the holidays to make sure families had enough to eat.

Even the First Order Corporation chose not to impose their harsh terms on them, knowing Maz’s savviness would prevent Chewie from entering a contract that would end up taking everything. Too many had taken the bargain from First Order, farmers to ship captains alike, only to watch their beloved possessions stripped away or, worse yet, rented back to them with outrageous interest. Ebenezer Snoke, the bank president, was usually seen stomping down the streets, his gold tipped cane stabbing the cobblestones and a permanent sneer on his face. He was the boogeyman to the town’s children--be good or Snoke will take you away!

Rey jumped out of the cart and lifted Astrid down just as Maz came rushing out of the large farm house. It had a beautiful wrap around porch, two stories, and plate glass windows, each pane gleaming in the sun. Chewie came around from the other side, a servant trailing behind him. He barked at him to take the plow around the other side while Maz fluttered over Astrid, bringing her inside to glasses of cool lemonade and fresh baked shortbread cookies.

“Come and sit down, dear. I haven’t seen your faces in so long!” Maz crooned, stroking Astrid’s dark hair. Rey had pulled her daughter’s hair back into three stacked little buns, a design she came up with herself to handle her hair’s different lengths. She grinned privately at how her husband would often tease her about the buns, joking she had created them to give draw out their foreplay as his hands would twine through her strands. Rey cleared her throat and sat up in her chair, catching the knowing look Maz gave her while Astrid chatted on about what she had learnt in Sunday School. Chewie was not Maz’s first husband; her first, Yoda, had died in exile after fleeing a powerful lord bent on owning all the territory in Europe. Maz had been Rey’s greatest comfort after his husband’s death, while Astrid still quickened in her womb. She understood longing and pain, the odd ways despair would creep up on someone.

“I believe Chewie has a new pony in the stables,” Maz was murmuring.  Astrid’s eyes brightened and she turned to her mama, her lips half parted. Anticipating, Rey nodded, adding a warning to listen to everything Chewie said. Astrid nodded before fleeing out the door, a whirl of pink and white skirts and dark hair. Maz chuckled as she she poured more lemonade into their glasses.

“You should re-open your tavern,” Rey suggested as she took a large swallow of the drink, the perfect balance between sweet and sour.

“Not with the First Order buying all the properties in D’Qar. Their rents are scandalous!” Maz seethed, her brow furrowed in thought.

“I thought the other bank, Resistance, was doing well,” Rey asked slowly. She chose to keep out of town but Leia was intimately involved and would try to keep Rey informed.

“Oh yes, Leia Organa and that handsome Dameron fellow are doing the best they can but the prime pieces have been plucked. They are working with less well-off folks. It’s the same in many cities too but I hear the Resistance is doing better in others than here. Old Man Snoke has too many people under his thumb. They fear him,” Maz growled. Rey was surprised to hear her mother in law was involved.

“I thought Leia was only going into town to do charitable works,” she said. Maz snorted.

“Leia Organa? Daughter of Senator Organa? If women could be senators, that woman would be president,” Maz stated firmly. “Poe Dameron is her protege, from her academy out in the woods that her brother now runs. Her brother has done something completely different with it, far too influenced by Thoreau for my liking. But Dameron came out of it and then Harvard Business. He’s top notch, terribly smart, and unafraid. He’s also a damn good sailor. Won a couple harbor cups. She’s still guiding him under the guise of directing the charitable arm of the bank.”

“Leia is incredibly clever. If she can determine a way to help these individuals, she will do so. She is fearless, “ Rey remarked, admiration lacing every word. Maz nodded before adding:

“But Snoke is crafty. It’s a game of chess they are playing, my girl, and it has already cost good men their lives.”

“What do you mean?” Maz stared at Rey, incredulity on every line. Suddenly convinced that Snoke had something to do with Kylo’s disappearance, Rey leaned forward. “Please tell me.”

“Ships belonging to owners who outright oppose Snoke sink. Flouder. Return to port without any wares to trade. Like he’s cursed.”  Rey thinks about her two encounters with the man--once at her wedding and again at her husband’s funeral--his cadaverous body, his ghastly breath and gnarled limbs--and could very well see the malice in his face turned to murder. But she says nothing, keeping her opinion to herself. She had learnt quickly to mind her own business and let others go about theirs.

“No, I’m sorry,” she murmurs. Maz stares at her, intently reading her face before turning away.

“Aldous Hux has been asking about you,” Maz changes tack. Rey grimaces at the thought of the spindly red headed man. Once her husband’s best friend, he had become Snoke’s number one,a ship owner playing at being a banker, a ghost in black haunting people’s door steps. Leia had told her that he had been seen laughing in a woman’s face as he kicked her out of her room, tossing all of her undergarments out into the street.

“Yes, Leia has told me,” Rey defers. She doesn’t want to state her opinion of Hux aloud. Word get around in small towns.

“He is quite wealthy, if unscrupulous. If you care for fine things and for a fine future for your daughter, you could do far worse.”

“There would be no love in the marriage.”

“Fiddlesticks girl! You think because you marry once for love you have the opportunity to do so again? Many women are not as lucky as you. If you don’t take this opportunity, you might not have another.” Rey blinks at her over the rim of her glass. She can’t believe what she is hearing. Anger begins to bloom in her.

“Are you suggesting I marry that monster?” She keeps her voice low, controlled. Maz smiles.

“Not anymore. You kept your cards so close to your chest girl that I had no idea what you were thinking. Monster, yes, that he is.” She grew serious. “But he could be your last chance for a good match. You’re only twenty four girl. Don’t let yourself be a widow forever. You’ve mourned for more than an acceptable time.”  They sit in silence for a moment before Rey breaks it.

“I still love him, Maz,” she whispers, trying to keep the pain from breaking her voice and succeeding. She lets pride wash through her.

“And you always will. And you will always have Astrid as a reminder of that love. But he’s not coming back, my dear.  You need to pave a new future.”

“I need for the rain to come, otherwise my vegetables won’t bloom,” Rey says gloomily. Leia has been encouraging her to find a husband as well. She knows that it’s the socially acceptable thing for a respectable young woman to do. And unlike before, she brings with her a dowry of the farm as long as any man would accept her daughter. Given how well the farm does, it would be a good trade off for any man. Rey has had suitors for her hand in the last year but she’s all turned them down. She wonders if Hux is the last man available in town but brushes it aside. Like Chewie, she could always look outside of D’Qar to find a new husband.

She tried to imagine herself becoming friends and lovers with a new man but cannot. Ben still dominated her thoughts, her body tightening in memory of their nights together, his gentleness, his incessant kisses, his breath hot on her body, his fingers nimble at coaxing her to cry his name. She hadn’t expected to love him someone in an arranged marriage but it grew until even he shed tears the day he parted from her on a short voyage to the Caribe.

But back he never came. Lost at sea, they said. And she alone, about to give birth to a baby. Astrid with so much of her father in her that it made Rey’s heart both joyful and heavy.

That night, Rey was doing sums at the table, working out the budget for the coming summer, depending on different crop scenarios. Leia had not come home that evening, probably dining in a tavern, as she occasionally did, sometimes even staying in town depending on the hour or if a ship had returned to port.  Rey enjoyed these quiet moments, she thought, as she wearily laid down the pen and closed her eyes. She had built a small fire to keep the warm room as the spring nights were still too chilly for her comfort. Born in the hot deserts of Jakku, she struggled with the North’s cooler climate at times, especially when it was so warm in the day. She leaned back into the chair, listening to the fire crackle and the wind rustling the branches. A storm was brewing and she fervently hoped it brought a good rain.

A knock at the door jolted her from her meandering thoughts. She stood up and smoothed the smock over her dress. It was not quite too late for visitors and she wondered who was stopping by. Perhaps someone threw a horse shoe. Still cautious, Rey grabbed a large wooden walking stick that she used to defend herself with, and approached the door.

“Mrs. Solo, it’s Mr. Hux to call on you.” The high pleading voice penetrated the door and Rey froze in her steps. She blew out her breath. She did not have time for his games. Oh she knew very well why he was here and at this hour.

“I’m sorry Mr. Hux but I have no chaperone. I’m afraid I cannot let you in.”

“Please Mrs. Solo. The air grows chilly. I just need a moment to warm my hands and feet before I return to town. Can I ask you to open the door? As a Christian?” Rey growled. If she didn’t, he would speak the Reverend and she could expect a tongue lashing on Sunday. If she did, she could expect to deal with gossip for weeks in the village. Deciding she did not want to deal with the old and pompous reverend, she threw the bolt and slowly opened the door.

Adolus Hux stood casually in the doorway, beaming at her. He was tall and slender, with his red hair greased back. He seemed unusually pale, as if he spent far too much time indoors.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he crooned and she itched to whack him in the head with her stick. She stepped back and gestured to the chairs by the fire.

“May I get you a drink, sir?”

“Ale if you have any.”

“Alas sir, I am but a widow. I can offer you some brandy or sherry.” Rey smiled thinly at him and Hux grinned back, asking for a brandy while at the same time stating he was going to light a cigar to help him savor the liquor.  

Rey stomped to the kitchen and struggled to contain her anger.  Her hands gripped the table so hard her knuckles were turning white. She wanted nothing more than to grab all of the pots and pans and fling them at him, frighten him away forever. She forced herself to breathe, to think of her baby sleeping in the other room and calm returned to her slowly. She adjusted her hair and gathered the brandy and the glass.

Hux sat in her husband’s favorite chair by the fire, looking all the world like a spouse waiting for his wife. Rey shoved the rising bile down and presented him with the brandy. She refused to sit across from him, instead choosing to stand a few steps away.

“And you, Mrs Solo? Should you not have a refreshment to accompany me?”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hux, but it is late and I am but a simple farmer. I must rise early. Therefore, I am afraid, I will not be the most amusing of company.”

“A farmer and a widow and a mother to a young child. I had the pleasure of partaking of your most recent wedding cake--you seem to excel at baking as well. You take on so many roles, Mrs. Solo It is easy to see why your neighbors speak so highly of you.” He stared at her, his blue eyes bright and hard. She felt evaluated and sized up, placed in a table for further reference. She smiled at the compliment and murmured a deference, as proper her station. Although raised by the streets, no one could say that Leia Organa had not turned her into a lady.

“I’m afraid I do not know what to say to such praise.”

“Then just listen for I bring a modest proposition to you,” Hux ordered easily. Rey grit her teeth, knowing full way and furious that he arranged to do this without Leia here, without asking her permission as a member of Rey’s family.  “I am very interested in knowing if you would consent to be my wife, Mrs. Solo.”

Rey took a step back, letting the color show in her cheeks and hoping that it looked like embarrassment rather than anger. She searched her mind for what tack to take.

“I’m sure I’m not all understanding why you play these tricks on a simple woman, Mr. Hux,” she stammered. Hux frowned and leaned forward, the shadows lengthening over his face until he was only glints of red hair and gleaming eyes.

“Your humility does you great credit, madam. However, I pray you, place all pretense aside as I know what kind of woman you are. I am asking you to be my bride. You’ve quite scared away all other suitors. I am the only one at present who will take you and I would not be ashamed to call you mine. You are tolerable looking and your daughter, I have heard, is not stupid. We could find a fine boarding school for her.”

Rey wanted to scream and to hurl herself at him, to pound at his arrogant face with her fists. She focused very hard on holding herself still, on breathing slowly.

“Still sir, I have not much to offer you. As you said, I am not much desired by the other men and I come with the daughter of your rival.” She stressed the last, hoping to remind him of Ben Solo. She sees Hux’s eyes flicker to the daguerreotype of Ben Solo over the mantle. Ben’s proud cold face looked at them both and she took courage from it.

“My farm is modest at best, just barely meeting our household needs. I cannot bring you much, sir, and therefore, while flattered, I must refuse.”

“I beg your pardon?” His face was white, his mouth open. He had expected some resistance but not refusal. Rey continued on.

“Again, I am much grateful for your attentions to me and my family, sir. But at this time, I cannot presently commit to a marriage with you.”

“And why not?” Hux thundered.

“I am married, sir,” Rey stated, her head held high. Hux stared at her aghast before bursting into laughter.  She stood still as he continued to laugh until he was red in the face and gasping, bent over at the waist. Finally he stood and looked at her, the merriment fleeing as cold anger took over.

“You loved him, silly woman. He’s dead now, belongs to the sea. If not, he’s left you and your daughter for the temptation of the flesh of the wanton women in the Caribe. Do not be a fool. If we cannot come to an arrangement, then I believe your claim to this land is forefeit.” Rey stepped back, as if he had slapped her. She glanced at the deed to the land, could make out the rough shape in the dim room. Hux’s lip curled in contempt.

“I have the deed,” she whispered roughly. Hux snorted.

“Review it again. This land was given freely to Solo by Mr. Snoke on the condition he fulfilled his terms with the First Order. As his last ship did not return with goods, he did not meet the final condition.  The First Order has the right to take this farm. I convinced Mr. Snoke that it would do us great harm to place a beloved widow, such as Mrs Solo and her daughter, out on streets and to deed it to me. If you marry me, you can stay here. I won’t expect much of you--there are other women who meet my interest, far prettier and feminine with fine soft hands. But I would expect sons and I would expect your daughter to be sent away. I won’t have a child of Solo here. She looks far too much like him for my comfort.

Rey felt herself turn cold, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, as Hux approached her until he stood facing her.

“So you see my dear, you have a very difficult choice ahead of you. Return to the streets, little guttersnipe and raise your daughter the way you were--perhaps Unkar Plutt will take you both in again. He now runs a little whorehouse by the wharf. Or become my bride and endure but a few nights with me a week and keep your little kingdom here.” He ran one chilly finger down her cheek.  She couldn’t help it as a tear leaked out and slid down a cheek. He caught it and brought it to his mouth, sucking on his finger, his eyes locked onto hers. He moaned slightly before pulling the finger out and grinning at her. “ I will expect an answer at sundown tomorrow.”  
With that, Hux gathered his hat and cane and left the room. Rey stood straight for a moment or so until she could hear his horse leave before collapsing to the floor and sobbing.


	2. Escape Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run, run, Rey. Hux has you snared now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something new--floating point of view!

The next morning dawned grey and grim. Rey could feel the rain was coming but the answer was too late. The crops were no longer hers; she was no longer herself. She watched Astrid sleeping as the light became less grey and prayed for a solution to her dilemma. After years of struggling, she was finally in a safe place. Now, all torn apart, by the greed of one man who viewed her as a possession, nothing more. A notch in his belt for reasons she could not fathom. Was it subjection he desired? Knowing he could ruin everything the moment she uttered no? She closed her eyes and ached for Ben’s gentleness, blinking back tears as the rain began to fall. She watched the easy rise and fall of her daughter’s even breathing and thinned her lips. She made breakfast and chatted with Astrid about their day ahead. The clouds parted and Rey thought glumly even the rain disappointed. It merely dampened the ground. 

 

That morning, as Astrid tended to the hens, Rey gathered all of their coin and penned a vague letter to Leia in case she returned to the farm before Rey. She placed all of Astrid’s gowns and a few toys into a chest and put it in the wagon. 

 

They rode in silence, Astrid aware of her mother’s tense state. Rey stared mutely ahead during the hour long ride to Chewie and Maz’s farm. Maz rushed outside as soon as the wagon turned down the lane. 

 

“What’s wrong?” She demanded after taking a brief look at Rey’s face. Astrid was taken into the barn by Chewie and Rey explained the situation to Maz quickly, summarizing the conversation from last night. 

 

“Can you keep Astrid here and safe?” She asked after she reached the end. Maz’s face was unreadable. 

 

“I need to speak with my husband but I believe we can keep Astrid here. However, we will not let you go through with this marriage. Should the need arise, you will come here and live with us until we find a solution. Have you told Leia? She is not without her resources.” 

 

Rey shook her head. “No she has not returned from town.”

Maz hissed. “The snake knew exactly when to strike. Oh, he is a cool one.” She snorted and drew herself up to her full height--not much higher than Rey’s chest. She stomped out into the yard, calling for Chewie. 

 

“Of course, we can keep Astrid with us,” Chewie rumbled (or at least, that’s what Rey heard). 

 

“But we will search for a more permanent solution,” Maz barged in and slammed down a plate of muffins. Rey raised her brows at the anger Maz was radiating. She had worked through her anger last night and was left only with cool determination. If marrying Hux was her only option, then she would do her best to keep Astrid safe and make Hux’s life a proverbial hell. As long as she kept her bit of freedom at her farm, she was sure she could endure anything. Returning to her life beforehand--she doubted Leia would allow it but a widow’s income was not much for 2 women and a child to live on. Of course there were other solutions, but Rey could not bear the thought of leaving her sanctuary for work in the city. She recognized that life had tradeoffs--she wondered if Hux was worth it. 

 

Astrid believed she was staying over for a few nights so her mother could get work done. Chewie promised her work with the ponies so she was pleased as punch and wished her mother a cheerful farewell. Rey dropped the wagon off at home and rode the mule into the city. She had inquires to make. 

 

Her first stop was the Resistance bank. The squat building gleamed in the sharp April light. Each window glistened and its brick structure looked neat and welcoming. Poe Dameron had accentuated this by adding a short porch in the front and offering tea to clients as they came in. He was a follower of creating an atmosphere for clients, understanding that it was the little things that people responded to when making a decision about who to buy from, with whom to bank. She knew Maz occasionally supplied them with refreshments and Poe had more than once offered to pay Rey for baked goods as well. 

 

Rey strode in and asked for Leia at the front desk. Upon hearing that she was out of the office, Rey frowned and ran her mind over possible locations where her mother in law could be. 

 

“Mrs Solo!” Poe’s boisterous voice rang out in the bank. She turned to see him clattering down the steps. He did not wear pomade in his hair and his black curls tumbled around his face. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, holding it between his warm palms. “How are you, love?” 

 

“Not at all well. May we speak in private?” Rey responded in a low and urgent tone. Poe took in her serious face and nodded once, requesting tea and cake be brought to his office as he ushered her up the stairs and into his space. His office was small compared to most bankers but it was full with comfortable furniture, leather bound books, and warmed by several windows. He could see directly down to the wharf, ever watching for the return of a ship. 

 

“What is the matter?” He asked without preamble, settling in behind his desk. 

 

“Hux came to my home and proposed to me last night. He also said that I am not the true owner of the farm--it was deeded only to my husband if certain conditions were met. According  to him, they were not and  the First Order can and will evict me,” Rey pulled out the deed, carefully folded, from her carpet bag and presented it to him. “I’ve read it over and I can see where it might be true under the addendum. I need to know if it can be contested.” Poe nodded once; he was always quick at grasping the true nature of a situation. He pulled out a pair of gold wire framed glasses and began perusing the document. While he read, Rey sipped her tea and allowed herself to relax. Astrid was safe; with Poe as an ally, she too could be safe. 

 

A few moments later, Poe stood up and walked over to the bookshelf. He pulled down a book and flipped to a chapter, pursuing his lips as he read. He pulled the glasses off and closed his eyes before turning a pitying look to her. 

 

“I am so sorry, my love,” he whispered. “This contract is iron clad. We could contest it, tie it up in courts, but Snoke has a lot of judges on his payroll. I’ve lost many cases that way; it would be difficult to find a judge who is not impartial to the First Order bribes.” 

 

“The First Order is slowly destroying everything,” Rey whispered. She stared out the windows at the tall masts and orderly lines of the ships. She briefly considered running, grabbing everything, and heading south to the Caribe.

 

“I could marry you,” Poe offered, leaning against the bookshelf. Rey chuckled.

 

“You could,” she grinned, “But that still doesn’t help me keep my land. And it is my land.” She spent a few minutes chatting with Poe, mapping out several other courses of action before taking her leave to find Leia at the town library. 

 

*********

 

Hux leaned against the window, surveying the streets below. He had a small break between appointments; several of his ships were going out this week and he needed to review the insurance contracts. And, as a member of the board of the First Order, he needed to prepare a report for Snoke’s review. Snoke had done much for Hux--given him his first command, under First Mate Ben Solo, pushed him for captaincy, and helped him fund his first ships. Hux’s business was as much owned by Snoke as him. 

 

His eyebrow twitched as he watched his latest quarry trot out of Resistance Bank and head briskly toward the town library. He smiled faintly; he imagined Solo’s widow would try to find a way out of his proposal. He had ensured her acceptance by threatening others away from helping her. No one wanted to cross the First Order--except for Leia Organa Solo and Poe Dameron. But Hux had the best lawyers review the contract--if she wanted the land, she needed him, that much they could assure him. 

 

He chuckled darkly and took a sip of his tea. He would enjoy sporting with her. She was a bit too dark for his tastes--he preferred blondes with blue eyes--but she was a hard worker by all accounts and faithful to Solo. He remembered coming out of his office late one night to see a solitary figure on the widow's walk above the bank, hands clutching a rounded belly, slowly pacing. He admired her tenacity. By all accounts, the  _ Falcon _ had sunk somewhere off the coast of the Carolinas. Solo had mismanaged that ship, the way he mismanaged everything else. He had ruined Hux’s, Rey’s, and countless others’ lives. Hux’s lips curled in disgust. He found it unfathomable that he once counted Solo amongst his friends. He was glad to have outgrew the child. 

 

And soon he would possess Rey. He crinkled his nose thinking of the child--he had seen her at the town church on a few occasions and seemed more Kenobi than Solo but he refused to keep any reminder of Solo around. There was a boarding school in Boston and he had already reached out to the headmistress to assure Astrid’s spot. 

 

Hux watched Rey chat with a few people on the street, a smile brightening her face. 

“Run run little girl. Soon, you will find you have no allies other than me,” he murmured. He turned his head at the knock on the door. “Enter,” he called and a messenger boy walked in, eyes wide, and handed him a  telegram. Hux quickly scanned it, his eyes darkening. He saw the boy gaping at the pile of scones on the table and gestured toward it. He understood hunger in all of its forms. 

  
“Take one, boy. You’ll need it as I require you to deliver this note to Mr. Snoke at the First Order bank,” Hux ordered gravely. He craned his neck to see Rey enter the library and blew out his breath in anger, his nostrils flaring. One more obstacle in his way. 


	3. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey counters Hux's offer with one of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all my lovely readers! Next update will be next weekend. Here's one to tide us through. Could there be hints of Ben.......

“Whatever is the matter,dear?” Leia had asked upon seeing Rey. Rey had found her in the library, perusing legal matters with an attorney in a private area. 

“I must speak with you privately, when you have the chance.” The attorney bid his goodbyes and left the area. Rey took his seat and leaned forward. She told Leia everything that had transpired within the last day. Leia’s eyes grew wide and her lips thinned with anger. 

“That beast,” she growled. “We can challenge it, of course.” Rey sadly shook her head and related the conversation she and Poe had earlier in the morning. Leia’s frown deepened as she leaned back into her seat. The women sat in silence, Leia thinking, Rey twisting her skirt in her hands. She stared at them, the nails cut short, a thin line of dirt underneath them. She had taken a few moments to clean up before coming into town. Her hands were roughened with blisters and brown from the sun. Rey fumbled through her carpetbag, looking for gloves. She wanted to look presentable while sitting with Leia Organa Solo. Several people walked by them and Leia chatted for a few moments with each one, remembering a tidbit about each person’s life. Rey did not want to shame her. 

“Rey,” Leia began slowly. “Am I remembering correctly that you applied to Resistance Bank for a loan shortly after my son’s disappearance?” Rey started before catching Leia’s thought and nodding. 

“Yes, I needed funds to tide me over and to help, perhaps, with a mule or plow.”

“I believe you purchased Bebe with that loan.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve paid all off but the last bit of interest.” Leia smiled in triumphant.

“Well, we don’t need to let that part out. Now, I will visit Poe this afternoon to secure that instrument so that you have it prepared when you meet with Hux this evening.” Rey and Leia smiled at each other and Rey scarcely dared hope that perhaps they found a way to thwart Hux, even if for a short bit. 

“Excuse me, but are you Rey Solo?” A low voice intruded on their privacy. Rey looked up to see a tall, blonde woman dressed in the finest slate and navy silks which brought out her gray blue eyes. Her hair was piled on top of her crown in an elaborate coif. Without waiting, she sat down near them.

“I think she hardly needs to be seen with you, Mrs Phasma,” Leia all but snarled. 

“Please, Mrs. Organa. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with her. You can leave if you feel uncomfortable with the likes of me.”

“And who are you?” Rey asked. She liked the forthright manner in which the woman spoke. 

“I’m Mrs Phasma. I run a boarding house down on First and Main. You are more than welcome to come on by,” she smiled toothily at Rey. Leia drew in a shocked breath.

“She runs a whore  house for Unkar Plutt,” she stated coldly. Rey drew back. She had enough dealings with Plutt to last her a lifetime. She eyed Phasma wearily. 

“No, I do not run it for Plutt. I lease his building from him and I own it all. The girls, the boys,”-here, she sent Rey a salacious wink-”the meal within. No man oversees it. The contract I have with him is ironclad. He has no say over it.”

“Then why are you here? I have no desire to visit your home, despite your offer,” Rey said, drawing the conversation back to her. Leia’s face was pinking in anger and her eyes were darting around the library, trying to determine if someone was witnessing it. “Mother Leia, if you could please, I have barely eaten today. I believe there was someone selling pies on the street.  I have some coin if you would?” She reached into her purse but Leia stayed her hand and nodded curtly at Phasma before leaving. Phasma smiled at Rey. 

“Nicely done. Now instead of dealing with Reverend Ware about her wayward soul, she will only have to hear about how she must guide yours.”

“I don’t believe running a whore house makes your soul wayward. We all need to eat.” Rey was cool. There were a few moments before she met Ben where she had considered a few houses to take her in and to find trade elsewhere. Luckily, she had always found other work in taverns and hostelries, from scrubbing floors to mending harnesses. 

Phasma gave her an evaluating look before faintly smiling again. “Then you and I have more in common and that makes me even gladder that I came to bring you warning.”

“What warning?”

“Aldous Hux seeks to make you his bride.”

“I am aware. He proposed last night and gave me until this evening to decide.”

“Until this evening. How kind of him,” Phasma almost grimaces. “Then I believe you need to witness this. Lucretia? Come.” Phasma raised a hand and beckoned. A woman waiting in the shadows behind some stacks slowly came forward. She was petite, clothed in simple dark grey clothes, a hat with a full veil obscuring her features. All Rey could make out were slender fingers covered in lace gloves. She raised an eyebrow at Phasma. “You may drop the veil, Lucretia.” 

The woman lifted her trembling hands to the veil and raised it. Rey’s lips parted and a small gasp escaped her. Phasma gave her a pitying look before telling Lucretia to drop it and ordering her to leave. 

“You see why I needed to prepare you. You must understand the beast you are marrying.” Rey sat there, shock running through her system at the sight of the bruises circling Lucretia’s neck, her swollen lips, a green bruise highlighting her eyes. 

“I imagine there are more of those all over her body,” she said haltingly. Phasma tilted her head to take in Rey’s demeanor. 

“Yes,” she murmured. “Primarily on her bottom. You see, Hux is a man of certain tastes. I doubt you will see him often in bed as you are not his type--he frequents my establishment so I am well aware of the women he prefers. He is not all bad--he is quite generous and does not harm women outside of the bedroom. For example, he will never strike you for being disobedient. But he does like his nights…..shall we say, rough? And he fails to have a safe word.”

“Safe word?” Rey asks, curious. 

“Yes, a word a partner can use to indicate their pain threshold has been passed. Hux is not alone in his passions; in larger cities, there are clubs especially dedicated to them. However, in a smaller place such as D’Qar” she waved her hand to indicate the lack of options. “I am the only proprietor in town who will accept him anymore but I set the rules and he follows them.”

“And is that what you are recommending I do? Set the rules?” Rey challenged. She was not surprised at Hux’s tastes; she had spent more than one night with her hands tied above her head, Ben’s hands roaming her body with her unable to reciprocate, trapped between fear and pleasure. He had mentioned he and Hux had visited a few rather unsavory places early in their friendship. She did not fear sex or find it disgusting; she understood as a child watching others rutting in all sorts of manner and places that it was part of human nature. Under Ben’s patience tutelage, she had learned to find joy and pleasure in it, sadness and kindness, perhaps even love. 

“You are an unusual woman, Mrs. Solo,” was Phasma’s only remark before gathering her skirts and standing up. “Please call on me any time you wish. I would enjoy your company again.”

“And I, yours,” Rey found herself responding. She was a bit taken aback by the offer before realizing its truth. “But you still didn’t answer my question.”

“I would advise trying to find ways not to marry him, if I were you. That being said, he has set his sights on you and he rarely fails at achieving his goals. Rules, Mrs. Solo. Rules can protect you. Now, if you excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” She turned to leave. 

“Thank you,” Rey called after her. “I will not forget your advice.” Phasma nodded once and swept out of the library. Rey figured she would be at the end of some angry words and scandal for this conversation but imagined marrying Hux, her husband’s best friend, would ensure that anyways.   
  


She followed Phasma out of the library shortly. She had more errands to run that day before returning to her home to await Hux’s visit. As she exited the library, she saw Leia standing under an umbrella. They embraced and Rey summarized Phasma’s warning.    
  


“Well, I certainly hope it won’t come to that, “ Leia stated firmly, handing Rey her meat pie. Grateful, Rey took a bite out of it, nodding. She adored meat pies; they were her favorite treat prior to her marriage to Ben and she still made them frequently. Nothing like a flaky buttery crust with warm meat and cheese to fill the belly. 

As she ate, Rey observed the commotion in the street. The library was near the docks and the sharp sour smell of the sea and rotting fish lingered in the air. There was much activity in the streets, the wharf boys racing to and from, a stream of people heading down. 

“What is going on?” Rey said around a mouthful of food. Leia shot her a look of disapproval.

“It’s Friday, Rey.  Merchant ships from Boston arrive on Fridays and I believe Hux’s shipping company has been expecting the return of a ship for quite some time. It most likely was spotted sailing into the harbor.” Rey nodded; she avoided the village as much as possible so its rhythms were often unfathomable to her.  

“I’m going to meet with Poe and then I will meet you at the house,” Leia declared. Rey bid her adieu and headed toward the dressmakers to pick up the new gown for Astrid. 

**********

Later that evening, Rey could not calm herself, which angered her. She latched onto the anger, pulling it close to her. Uncertainty left a foul taste in her mouth; anger was clean and empowering. She wrapped it around her, helped her clear her mind. Leia watched Rey pace the sitting room over her glasses while she knitted something. Rey had very little patience for knitting or embroidery but she could stitch as needed. Leia often remarked that it was important to pick it up because men were always willing to speak freely if they thought women were too occupied to notice. They believed that women found embroidery strenuous, fools. 

Rey found herself missing Astrid, the rhythm of their goodnights, her daughter’s bright chatter chasing the shadows from the home. She imagined Astrid was having the time of her life with Chewie and Maz, both who were probably spoiling her rotten and filling her with sweets. She smiled at the thought until a knock interrupted her reverie. She started. 

“Mrs Solo. I am here at the appointed time.” Hux’s voice was firm and clear through the door. Rey stood tall, smoothed her dress flat, checked her hair. She was nervous. Leia cleared her throat and Rey rushed to open the door. Hux strode in, barely acknowledging Rey. He placed his top hat and cane on her little desk and stood, his hands in his pocket, surveying the room. She could see he was measuring, determining the cost of things. She had learnt while in D’Qar that his townhouse was well appointed, filled with furniture from England and Paris. 

“Good evening, Mr. Hux. Brandy again?” Rey began, proud to see her voice remained calm. 

“No, Mrs. Solo. I have champagne in the saddlebags. I imagine tonight will call for a celebration. Mrs. Organa,” he nodded at Leia who had her hands folded demurely in her lap. 

“Yes, a celebration, “ Leia began. “But of what?”

“I have come for your answer, Rey,” Hux began, turning away from Leia and fixing his piercing eyes on Rey. Leia was miffed at being ignored and stood up, drawing herself up to full height. 

“I’m afraid the answer is--I will see you in court,” Rey stated firmly. Hux frowned. 

“I beg your pardon? I believe I made it quite clear that your home was on the line. Do you enjoy being a guttersnipe so much you would prefer it to me,” he almost hissed the last words, his brows pinched in anger. Rey was glad she had surprised him; she imagined he was not use to hearing no. 

“She does enjoy her home. She loves it so much that after my son’s disappearance, she needed a loan from Resistance to keep it going. She has not paid that off yet,” Leia butted in. Hux glared at her, finally fully absorbing what having Leia Organa in the house met. 

“I would like to see that loan,” he bit out. 

“Gladly,” Leia smirked and handed him the papers. He strode over to Ben’s old chair by the fire and sat down without preamble and began reviewing the loan. Rey was irritated with how he acted as if this was already his home. 

“Rey, dear,” Hux began, “I would have that brandy now, if you please.”

“I am not your dear,” Rey ground out as she stalked toward the kitchen. She handed him the glass and as he took it, he made sure to caress her fingers, his eyes gleaming at her. She jerked her hand back. Leia came up to place a protective arm around her. 

“Well, this is interesting but it places you in an even worse position, Rey. You took out a loan on property that was not yours, and furthermore, you leveraged this property as your equity.”

“She was acting in good faith, under the knowledge that this place was left to her by her husband. I find it curious that you waited almost four years to act on the knowledge that the First Order owned this farm. It was quite well known that Rey and her daughter lived her, that she sold produce from this farm,” Leia challenged. “She cannot be accused of conspiracy to defraud.” 

“I can’t even imagine taking darling Rey to court,” Hux replied casually. Rey noticed the triumphant gleam in his clear eyes.“I can easily take care of this loan. It’s a small amount.” He grandly whipped out a checkbook and wrote a check in the full sum of the loan. He lazily ripped it out and waved it in front of the women. Rey swallowed hard. She could not imagine having enough funds at one’s disposal to taunt others with it. 

“Now, to the matter at hand. I believe it was your hand, Rey,” Hux grinned at his own quip. Rey’s expression turned sour. She felt trapped, her air dying in her lungs. She had Leia had hoped the loan would give them enough time to find another solution. Hux had dismissed it, bought her off, like he bought all others. She should’ve just gathered her items and fled with Astrid in the morning she realized. 

Rey faintly heard Leia arguing with Hux as she gazed around the little house. It was snug and cozy, filled with trinkets that Ben had returned with during his trips south, Astrid’s drawings, Rey’s knick knacks that she tinkered with when she had time. Evidence of a life. Evidence of a love--she had stored her letters from Ben in a box on the mantle next to his photo. A shrine to him, almost, Leia had once remarked fondly. She swallowed hard. If she left, could she protect Astrid? 

“Astrid won’t be harmed,” Hux cut in, over Leia’s objections, as if he was reading Rey’s mind. She turned to look at him. “I will send her away--I won’t have a Solo child here. But she will attend a top school for girls near Boston. And I will allow her home during holidays.” 

“Allow?” Leia echoed fiercely. Rey puzzled over why Hux wanted to marry her. She ran through all that she learned of Hux in the last day and could not figure why he would want her. He needed a socialite, a woman could entertain  and hold balls that the town would talk about for weeks. She was small but muscular, too dark to be fashionable, and she never applied lemon juice to her freckles. In some ways, she loved them, lost in the memory of Ben taking a slow morning to plant kisses on each one. 

“You cannot just come in here and demand marriage,” Rey stated coolly in the midst of Leia and Hux’s impassioned arguing. Rey noticed a crimson flush was staining Hux’s face, his eyes wild and furious.  “I expect to be courted.”  Hux sneered. 

“That hardly addresses the situation with your land belonging to me,” he spat. Rey scoffed. 

“You have other tenants throughout the city,” she began, gesturing toward the house. “I’m sure we can reach some sort of agreement while you persuade me to become your wife.”  Hux hesitated and Rey seized on it. “This is not me saying no; this is me asking for time. I am willing to be your tenant and ensure you are my landlord whilst you court me.” 

“Others courted you and failed. “ Rey’s heart stuttered.  

“Yes, but they didn’t really court me. They offered me things--jewels, silks, laces. I have no need of things. You offer something I want--this land. But you make yourself part of the package.” She gave him a dazzling smile. He blinked at her a bit owlishly. “Make me an offer that I cannot refuse.” 

It worked. The entrepreneur in Hux could not resist the offer to tempt her to his side and his arrogance allowed him to think that he could easily sway her. He returned her smile with one of his own. Leia’s eyes widened but she wisely said nothing. Rey imagined she saw the ruse right away. 

“If you are to be serious in this endeavor, I request that you sit here next to the fire and enjoy a refreshment with me,” Hux stated, pointing to the other armchair. “I have petit fours from the newest bakery in my bags.” 

“Of course, “Rey murmured. “As long as my mother in law may remain as a chaperone.” Hux bowed once to Leia before excusing himself.

  
“I hope you know the game you are playing, little one,” Leia said. Rey nodded once and removed herself to the chair, to gather her wits, and to make it through the evening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prostitutes were considered the great social evil of the mid to late 19th century. The irony is that prostitutes and women who worked in brothels were occasionally some of the wealthiest and most free women at that time. Many projects in the American West were actually funded by prostitutes. This is not to say that being a prostitute was an excellent lifestyle choice in the 19th century; it often came with abuse and disease and greatly depended on the type of clientele a woman serviced. A woman like Phasma and her establishment would be expected to be disease free and to cater to middle and to uppermiddle class tastes. Phasma would be allowed to set her rules as needed. Her home would be known more as a parlor house than a brothel. A parlor home would offer other inducements as well--meals, gambling, perhaps dancing. It is not unlikely in the course of Leia's charitable work that she would know and would meet Phasma. But for her to associate with her in a public place like a library would have far reaching implications. Rey is quite brazen here. I hope I am not idolizing prostitution here; most women did not work in established places but ran their own through their rooms or on the streets- an infamous police report from the 19th century once counted 185 women plying their trade around London's wharves on one night alone. However, given the restraints that women had at the time, this was one way they could earn a wage and often times prostitution paid higher than a clerk's wage at a store. 
> 
> Bondage clubs were quite common in the Victorian era. They were considered elite and underground. So to imagine Hux and Ben visiting them while at sea or while younger is not all that unlikely. Victorians were kinky.


	4. Biding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time presses on after Rey's offer. Hux courts her seriously while distracted by rumors of a wealthy new investor in town, Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your interest! I really hope you are enjoying the story.  
> Things get a more here. I don't know the difference between M and E? Is the difference between plot with porn and porn without plot? TIA  
> Also, um, I belong in the trash but not for Reylo which to be clear I'm 125% behind.
> 
> I feel like AO3 should allow me to give a warning based on Hux getting laid. That can be traumatic.

The month flew by as Rey was occupied with planting season. During the day, she sowed seeds, grafted trees in her orchard in order to produce sweeter apples, pulled weeds, supervised Astrid’s stumbling attempts at reading, and at night, endured Hux’s clumsy attempts at romance. The day after she delivered her request to be courted, a bouquet of roses showed up at her door. When he had asked how she enjoyed them, she told him she had tossed them in her compost pile. Greenhouse flowers were a waste of resources; better take something useless and find something good in it. Hux looked slightly stunned as she asked him how could she enjoy something when she should be growing? He was giving her useless tools. 

The next day a young boy had shown up and said he was told by a Mr. Hux to aid her around the farm. Rey guessed quickly he was also sent to spy on her for Hux. That day, Poe had ridden up for afternoon tea. She had gestured toward the boy and Poe had quirked his brow at her, a mischievous  glint in his eyes. They locked themselves in the sitting room, blinds closed, and to her great mirth, Hux had shown up, his face livid, demanding to know the exact nature of her and Poe’s relationship. She curtly reminded him that she was married and if he had an issue, to take it up with Poe. Apparently he had because when Leia returned from town, she was crying from laughing. Hux failed to turn up for several days and when he had, a pale green bruise was ghosting his chin. Rey hid a smile. 

Rey was pleased with the season and its progress. And although the boy, Edmund, was sent to spy on her, he was a diligent worker. He confessed to wanting a job outside of the ships; he had lost his father, his uncle, and his older brother to sea. His mother tried to find a farmer to take him but to no avail. Rey watched him play with Astrid, showing her how to spin a top, and privately reminded herself to check with Maz and Chewie for a stableboy position. 

She headed into town to gather a few items and to have tea with Mrs. Phasma. The invitation request had arrived the week before and Rey had wavered for several days before sending her acceptance. She also knew Hux was aware since she used Edmund to run the errand. He had not visited that evening but the following night he was gleeful. Leia dryly remarked he probably imagined she was going to speak with Phasma and ask for advice. “Men always think with their little heads,” she muttered much to Rey’s shock and amusement. 

Rey found herself ushered into an opulent sitting room at Phasma’s place. The squat red building looked unremarkable from the outside but the interior was grandiose with delicate rosewood furniture, silk lined walls, and warm lights in sconces throughout the rooms. Phasma’s room was done in a cool slate colored with burgundy accents. Rey found herself pleased at the restraint in the sitting room. 

She had peeked curiously into the client greeting room to see plush couches and heavy brocades, chairs and loveseats hidden into corners with curtains to easily obscure occupant activities. It made her eyes widen as she recognized the deacon from next town and she quickly turned her face. Her heart skipped a beat at the moan uttered by the young woman wrapped around the deacon and her face grew warm. She ached for Ben in ways that she usually denied herself. She idly wondered if she could be married to another man, if Hux could be an option, before her heart leapt in her throat. To marry another felt like betrayal. She had meant her vows; she didn’t understand why her heart wouldn’t accept Ben’s death. 

“I understand Hux is serious in his attentions to you,” Phasma was saying as she poured the tea. Rey cleared her throat and brought her attention to the navy clad woman in front of her.  

“He has been quite different now that he has to work for it,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t answer the most pressing question--why me? There are plenty of other women more suited for the position of his wife and all that would entail.” 

“I’m not sure I quite understand either,” Phasma confessed. “But I imagine it has something to do with that fact that Hux always wanted what Ben Solo had and it was quite well known how happy a marriage you two had.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rey asked, her eyebrow raised. She remembered Ben telling her about a shipmate named Hux, that he was far too orderly and image driven, his ideology overriding common sense.  She furrowed her brow as she racked her brain for the memories. 

 

_ Ben was leaning over the kitchen table, cradling a mug of coffee in his large hands. He was dressed for the farm but they both knew he would be leaving for sea soon. His sea chest was out and every time her gaze landed on it, Rey’s heart quickened and she would clutch her belly where their baby was growing. She knew what he did when she married him but the reality of marrying a sailor was all too overwhelming. She was too used to his presence beside her in the morning, holding her at night.He was leaning over her now, placing delicate kisses on her neck and jawline, wrapping his arms around her.  _

_ “I’ll miss you,” she whispered. He kissed her hair and laid his cheek against hers, rough with stubble. He preferred the clean shaven look but was indulging in a rare relaxing morning. A knock at the door drew Ben’s attention. She continued to knead the bread and he came back in reading a letter, disgust written on his features. “What is it?”  _

_ “Hux. He’s demanding updates once we reach Charleston before we head into Kingston. What an idiot.” _

_ “Maybe he’s overly nervous?” Rey offered as she placed the bread into the bowl and laid a towel over the top. She wiped her hands on her apron, watching Ben closely. He was visibly struggling with anger.  _

_ “No, he’s a control freak and a terrible seaman. Once he thought it would be wise to catch the edge of a storm to give us a kick and get south faster,” Ben’s eyes darkened and sadness enveloped him as he continued. “But he misjudged our position and the speed of the storm. We lost the mizzenmast and several good men. But we ended up closer to Kingston than we originally thought and he counted that as a win.” Rey edged toward him and hugged him to her.  _

_ “He’s not with you on this journey,” she murmured. “You will be safe. You will return to me.” _

_ “I’ll always return to you,” he said before kissing her deeply.  _

 

“Ben thought he was a terrible sailor,” she said slowly, “more concerned with profit than morale.”

“He was an average sailor but he is an exceptional visionary,” Phasma corrected. “It’s why he was able to use a relationship with Snoke to leverage himself into a ship owner position rather than just the captaincy, like your husband. He understood how to use debt and desire to make himself one of the largest property owners in this village.” Rey smiled softly and shrugged; she never desired accolades, to be seen on the arm of the wealthiest man. As a child in the orphanage, she only hoped to ignore the gaze of the matron and her twitchy belt hand; as a teenager after she ran away, she only hoped to earn enough to quell her hungry belly. It wasn’t until Leia, who had taken her under her wing as a charity case, had introduced her to Ben that she had dared to hope for more than just the next meal on the table. 

“Solo always received more praise than Hux. The sailors loved him more and even though Hux was aiding in the construction of First Order bank, there was no doubt that Snoke wanted Solo more.  He greatly admired Solo’s leadership skills, his ability to convince people, to really convict them, far more than Hux, and was openly trying to poach him from Resistance. Hux was always jealous of him. And you are the last link to Solo in this town. You and Astrid but Hux would never deign to harm a child.” Phasma sipped her tea quietly and smiled thoughtfully at Rey. Rey bit her lip, lost in her thoughts. 

“Besides, Hux’s attention is elsewhere. A new wealthy investor has arrived in town and has been meeting with Resistance Bank. Hux greatly desires to add him to the First Order’s rolls, including offering him a position on the board. Non-voting of course but an attractive offer. This man has been all over town, wooing women and merchants alike,” Phasma dropped a sugar cube in her tea and was stirring the entire time she was talking. “I even heard he offered to buy the rental contracts for some of them.” 

“Sounds formidable. What’s his name?”

“Kylo Ren?” Phasma shrugged. “A foreigner apparently.” 

“Indeed. Well cheers then to this Kylo Ren. The more he keeps Hux’s attentions away from me, the more grateful I am.” Rey grinned cheekily and the two women clinked their mugs together before turning to more mundane topics. 

________

Across town, a short man strode purposefully into Resistance bank. He was impeccably dressed, his short black hair combed into a neat line, his tie precise, the stark whiteness of his shirt flush against his dark skin. He carried a leather portfolio, casually holding it toward his body. He had violence in his lines, coolness in his eyes. 

“I need to speak with a Mr. Poe Dameron,” he told the clerk smartly. The clerk blinked stupidly at him before giving him a dull smile. 

“I’m afraid Mr. Dameron is exceedingly busy today.” 

The other man blew out his breath, his nostrils flaring. He pulled out a card and handed it to the clerk whose ears began to turn red. 

“Oh I think he will see me.” 

_ __________ _

In First Order Shipping and Mercantile Corp, Hux handed the errand boy a pile of cards.

“Be sure to deliver these to the postmaster. There’s an extra two pence if you get there and back in twenty minutes,” Hux ordered sharply. The boy looked at the tremendous stack of cards, clutching them to him, his hands grasping at the loose letters threatening to fly away. 

“What is all this for, sir?”

“ A party. I intend to throw the best ball this town has seen in a season. And entice a few more investors.” He muttered the last bit to himself, noticing the boy’s eyes brightening at the word ball. “And, yes, of course, I will need a few errands run. If your mother says ok, I’d like to borrow you for it.” 

“Yes sir!” The boy saluted before dashing away. 

______________

Rey strained, biting her lip, holding back a cry as she furiously rubbed herself beneath her chemise. Desperation filled her and she wanted nothing more than a few moments of peace, oblivion to hid in. The moans of the courtesan at Phasma’s echoed in her ears. She screwed her eyes closed and invoked memories of Ben--his hands rough with blisters, his warm smell, a mixture of harsh salt, dry sunshine, and hot tar, his short tousled hair, almost brown in some lights. A breathy gasp escaped her as she neared the edge and she tipped her head back, arching herself off the bed before finally she felt the warmth flood her, the ecstasy coming and ebbing so quickly. She lay in the bed, feeling the sweat stick under her back, and fiercely  wished her memory was stronger. She could only remember fleeting bits of Ben; impressions really, watered down by time. They had been married only five months before he left; barely a chance to learn one another. He was often not here during their marriage, dividing his time between the wharves, contract meetings, and time on the farm. Her mind flittered over their evenings together, how he would press his lips against hers before pulling her close to him. 

Her mind wandered to the kiss Hux demanded of her the night before. His papery uninspiring lips grabbing at hers, his hands kneading her hips. He looked absolutely delighted. She had turned away, pretending to blush, rather than let him see the disappointment on her face. He had kept his hand at the small of her back, holding her close to him, his cologne overwhelming her. She giggled and pulled herself away, playing coy--she despised it, these games, but it kept her safe. 

Maz had dangled the offer of giving a bit of their substantial farm to Rey for her and Astrid, to encourage her to give up the game with Hux, but Rey had refused. She struggled to explain why but it wouldn’t be hers. She had earned this farm through her marriage--she hated saying that because eyebrows would lift, the insinuation she married Ben only for financial freedom clear. She didn’t want to say that was part of his attractive package--home six months out of the year, gone the rest and a farm for her to manage, food for her to grow, with money in the bank. Ben had referred to this place as his treasure, his ship as his freedom, and she agreed with his assessment of the farm. 

Rey sighed and rolled over, wrapping the sheet closely around her shoulders. She felt the weight of her decisions pressing on her, filling her nose with hot bloody wolfish breath. She closed her eyes and prayed to find her own deliverance. 

________________

In his large townhouse nestled in hills overlooking D’Qar, Hux contemplated his glass of brandy, peering through it at the fire, running his thumb around the edge. Rey dominated his thoughts. He imagined her across the way from him, reviewing his household accounts. He was undeniably attracted to her self-sufficiency. He could imagine her herding their children, ensuring more than capable governesses, possibly even teaching their children together. He imagined her body underneath him, knowing his lips and body were bringing her pleasure that she could not have received from uninspiring Ben Solo. He caught a glance of Rey’s curved calves when he rode up to the farm the other night, her skirts in her hand, unaware, as she stabbed her shovel into the earth. He had to sit in his saddle for a moment, calm himself, compel his blood to leave his loins. He rested his head on his chair as he imagined gripping those calves, nibbling, biting, the sound of her breathing hitching, his name escaping her lips.

Hux sat up abruptly. Since beginning to court her, he had ceased his visits to Phasma’s house of ill-repute but he could no longer wait. Rey was taking longer than he imagined but he was savoring the chase. He wanted her to know she was beaten when she came to him. He rang a bell and ordered his horse to be ready. In a few moments he was flying into town. He was admitted into Phasma’s and could see the astonishment briefly flit across her face when he asked for a brunette rather than his typical blonde. 

She was so unlike Rey that he almost felt his desire fail him. Almost waifish with curly brown hair and no freckles across her nose. Hux closed his eyes and conjured up the image of Rey again. The girl was kneeling in front of him, unbuttoning his pants, her deft fingers working his member, running the flat of her tongue around him before gently sucking his balls into her mouth. Hux groaned, nearly whispering Rey’s name before stopping himself. He was no fool; he knew Phasma would use that. Angrily he jerked the girl up and tossed her on the bed. 

She was a patient girl, moaning appropriately as he sucked her nipple in his mouth, his fingers curled against her cunt. She began to rut against him and he smiled darkly. He liked to imagine Rey the same way--enthusiastic until he showed her his true himself. He flipped this girl over and smacked her bottom,the sound reverberating in the small room. The girl grunted and he did it again before pulling her up on her knees. 

He pushed himself in her, ignoring how dry she was and began to move, grabbing her hips and jamming her toward him. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, envisioning Rey in front of him, his hands smacking her tight little ass, his hands encircling her throat, tying her up. He wanted her to submit; she was making this chase more difficult and as he shoved himself inside this girl, this strange slip of a girl, she who was so submissive, so focused on him. He couldn’t wait until his first night with Rey, when she learned how a husband should really behave toward a wife--not all cool smiles and gentle hands but with firmness, a strict hand, and rules. He needed her to follow his rules. He remembered the disappointment and shame coloring her face when he took a kiss from her, pleased with brief glimpse of discomfort in her face. He enjoyed her lack of comfort. He envisioned her resting on plush cushions, her ass in pain after a night with him, and groaned. 

Hux came with a cry and he could almost hear the girl sigh in relief. 

“Oh we aren’t done yet, sweetheart,” Hux murmured before bringing his hands up to her throat, throwing her on her back, her dark eyes wide with terror. Enthralled with Rey’s image supplanting this girl’s, Hux continued to find his pleasure. Submission came with patience and he could be patient for a little while longer. 


	5. Shame and Sensibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftereffects of the ball were felt for weeks.  
> Edited for clarity including a bit of the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter. 
> 
> Not even sure why I'm continuing this. Make mistakes, learn from them, make them again. Thanks for reading my efforts.
> 
> EDIT: Due to some comments, I have added a version of the dreaded ballroom chapter. In short, I have rewritten this particular ballroom scene a half a dozen times and this is a very very condensed version without the awful conversation. It still reads poorly but it will help with the continuity of the work. The last two paragraphs are new to help the transition into the second part on the after effects.

The invitations were sent, the scarlet wax eagerly ripped apart for a quick read that sent all the mothers and aunts and seamstresses in town into a flurry. In two weeks, Aldous Hux would be hosting a ball and requests the pleasure of your attendance. All the wharf boys were pressed into service as errand boys and the working class found themselves huddled together, waiting for the gossip to drop. It did a person good to watch them scurry back in forth, the piles of lace growing higher, the goats slaughtered into boots,  all of the horses rented out. A ball affected the whole town, not just the invitees. 

Phasma had whispered into cook’s ear that Rey Solo was Hux’s fiancee. Cook mentioned it to the fishmonger who, of course, told his wife who, of course, told everyone at the market. Leia had grimaced when the fruit seller had demanded truth from her. A hard stare set them retreating. 

The night of the ball, Leia stood behind Rey, carefully winding pearls and petals into her rich dark hair. She had washed it carefully that night and even remembered to brush it one hundred times.  Leia had scrounged up some rouge and colored both their cheeks and lips. Rey did not recognize her reflection in the looking glass. As Leia focused on hair, humming a little sea shanty, Rey allowed her mind to wander toward Hux.  What would happen if she let Hux roam his hands over her body again. Would she start to crave it? Could she teach her heart to accept this? Could Astrid be better off at a school for girls than wild on the farm? The bills from the bank and other vendors were still waiting on the kitchen table and she had deliberately ignored them as she prepared dinner. As Hux’s wife, she mused, her duties would merely involve signing off on accounts, not determine how to juggle them. She longed for some easy peace.  

Maz and Chewie’s carriage rattled up and a brisk knock on the door informed them it was time to go. Throwing her old cloak over her dress, Rey kissed Astrid good night and followed Leia into the carriage.  She listened to Leia and Maz gossip over some piece of news and tried to quell her nervousness. She disliked formal occasions; her experience tof hem was limited to her wedding and even then, Ben had preferred something more low-key. She had spent more time the last year learning how to tell an edible mushroom from a nonedible than learning the last dances and she knew her gown was woefully out of date, despite Leia’s ministrations.  

As Rey followed Leia into the ballroom, she kept her eyes down, mimicking Leia’s easy conversation and charming manner. A smile here, a carefully timed “yes” or “of course” allowed her to remain a passive participant while she eyed the dancers, picking up their steps, committing them to memory. She steeled herself as Hux made his way to her, pulling her away from Leia, and introducing her to everyone at First Order Bank. Her mind went numb. She was led onto the floor by each of Hux’s underlings, by Hux himself, trodding on toes and earning herself dark looks. 

“Be quiet and look sharp,” Hux hissed. “This next one is important to me.” And he led her by the elbow to the tall, hulking man in the corner speaking with a lithe man. Hux introduced them as Kylo Ren and his associate, Finn Archer, investors from the South. Finn was shorter than Kylo, his hair neat, his shoulders straining the material of his suit, a cool calculating look on his face that belied his easy smile. 

Kylo Ren kept his face half turned away, a cloud of midnight black hair dusting his shoulders, so much longer than the current fashion. A goatee and beard obscured some of his features. She held her breath as she noticed a long scar split his face, wide at his forehead and narrowing as it crossed over to his chin. It rendered his face into two different parts. A dark unknowable side, the scar tracing his eye, and an elegant cool side, untouched by the deformity.  He was pale in the candlelight and Rey noticed he was gripping a silver tipped cane so tightly that his knuckles were white. 

The three immediately launched into a long winded conversation about banks and investments and stocks, the rumor of a railway mania in Britain, and Rey allowed her mind to wander until Kylo Ren was gripping her hand and guiding her to the floor. She threw a confused glance at Hux who bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile. 

“I can’t dance,” she blurted out, surprised. Ren tilted his dark head to the side.

“Neither can I so perhaps we can pretend together,” he replied. She braced herself, stiffening in his arms as a waltz started and was surprised as Ren almost lifted her to her toes and began guiding her across the floor. He did not speak, just stared at her. Rey kept her gaze affixed across his shoulders, remembering to smile at other couples as they passed.

“Are you always this enthusiastic about dancing?” Ren drawled. Rey started.

“I’m far more enthusiastic about my farm and making sure I have food on the table,” she snapped back. She was tired of being trotted out as a prize tonight. To her surprise Kylo began questioning her about the farm and even making a few jokes that she couldn’t help to laugh at. She relaxed into his arms, his gentle touch, and found herself moving more easily across the floor so that four dances passed and the next thing she knew Hux was cutting in, his menacing smile directed at Kylo but a quick glance of approbation given to her. Rey figured she did something correctly but quickly managed to botch it all up as she knocked her glass of lemonade all over the Parisian silk gown of Mrs. Pyncheon’s gown and Huz was coming in to make amends. Rey hid in an alcove the rest of the evening, wishing she knew how to survive in this world of silks and waltzes and lace gloves and secretly glad she did not belong. She knew she would be the butt of jokes for a few weeks and fully expected to earn a new nickname.

  
After a while, Rey fell asleep until Leia woke her up to help her stumble her way to the carriage. Hux had given her a clumsy, drunken kiss and sleep dazed, she had let him. Her fingers rested on her pearl necklace as she drifted back to sleep, the kiss searing her lips. 

* * *

 

The aftereffects of the ball were felt in D’Qar for days afterward, gossip fueled in homes for weeks, lace capped grey ladies clucking their head and taking joy in watching the drama unfold. There hadn’t been this good of a scandal since Isabella had run off with boy from the wharf, never to be seen again. How delightful an evening, the town gushed, picking at little details as they huddled near fires in the cool spring evenings. How Mrs Solo had dared to wear a low cut persian blue gown rather than the delicate and fashionable petal colored ones and brought shame to Mr. Hux. How electric Kylo Ren had seemed, his handsome face split by a scar that rendered one side immobile and dark, a slight accent rounding his vowels, his charm as he bent over the hand of every woman in attendance, excessively attentive to both sexes so that the women fell in love and the men hardly felt any jealousy. How he had danced four in a row with Mrs Solo and how Hux had seemed pleased by it. How Kitty Langford had fallen and sprained her ankle in the garden during a dalliance with the foolish Hugo and Kylo Ren had carried her in his arms to a couch and had refused the doctor, tending to her himself.

 

Needless to say, Kitty was smitten.

Needless to say, Leia was intrigued by this man who could be a powerful ally. Poe did not disagree.

Needless to say, Rey felt the glances for days afterward, even though she studiously avoided town.

 

Hux himself did not let shame color his cheeks--he found nothing to be concerned about, especially as he escorted Kylo Ren to meet Mr. Snoke and to ensure an investment. Rey had done her job as well as any wife. Since he had left Ren whirl her on the dance floor, Ren had spent more time with Hux and seemed more likely to put his considerable wealth into Snoke’s hands.

Kylo Ren only lifted a brow disdainfully as Finn Archer, his associate, related the town rumors, a sly grin gracing Finn’s elegant features. Kylo allowed himself to remember that he too once had a face as smooth and lively as Finn’s, his closest companion, the only one he trusted. Now his face was marred by a scar that hid his features so that even his bride did not recognize him. His heart had shattered as her gaze had skated over him; he had held hope that she would immediately know him, although Finn in all of his sensibility had warned him that their marriage was so fleeting that it was likely that he was but a dim memory.

Kylo stared at the warmed scotch in his hand and let the impressions from the ball wash over him. Rey, resplendent in a dark blue gown, touches of lace, sensible, shod in kid boots. He recognized his mother’s touches in her hair, twists wound around her head with pearls and flowers twined throughout. His heart had skipped a beat when he saw the necklace, the large pearl he had given her on a black ribbon nestled above her bodice. He remembered draping it around her, promising her much more, how she had refused, her sense of self worth warring with his words. She had been beaten and ground down as a child that she had protected herself and the weeks it took to open her up, her first real smile, their first real night together, had kept him alive when despair and pain had all but eaten him alive those weeks in the jetty, the reeking flesh of his dead shipmates threatening to drown him.

Violence had been poised to rip through him when he say Rey in Hux’s arms, gliding around the dance floor. Well, to be fair, Hux was gliding and Rey was doing her best imitation. A quick glance would show Hux was graceful but Rey had struggled with the steps. Kylo had imagined she had to make a choice between putting food on the table and learning something she considered frivolous. His sensible Rey.

This Rey was a stranger to him. He could not imagine her willing to be married Hux. She had met him once before, at their wedding breakfast and he had remembered how she had wrinkled her nose, as if a bad smell had assaulted her.

He had directed Finn to find out more about Rey and Hux’s engagement. This would require more time with Poe and the Resistance. Finn did not seem disinclined to spend time around Dameron. Kylo had hid a smile. He was well aware of Finn’s tastes and had suspected Poe shared it. Perhaps they could find some peace. If peace was left after Kylo was done with this town.

She had let herself relax in his arms, he thought briefly, had met his eyes and had not flinched at the scar like so many others.

“She laughed with you,” Finn reminded him. “She doesn’t laugh at Hux’s jokes.” He was eating a late dinner in the study and Kylo was comforting himself with scotch. He wanted to punch something.

“Hux isn’t funny. Of course she wouldn’t laugh at his jokes,” Kylo scoffed. Finn rolled his eyes and Kylo felt a stab of gratitude for whatever force brought him together with this young man. This young man who had joined what had called itself a freedom force but which instead chose to rape and pillage in turn for protection. Kylo had been recuperating in the village they had attacked and had seen Finn vomiting in the dark bushes. He needed no words, just held Finn’s hand, and together they slaughtered Finn’s old band. Finn, the idealist warring with the pragmatist. Finn, too clever by half with a smile that would disarm anyone. No one suspected Finn of duplicity, not even Finn of himself who was enjoying his role too much by half.

“She did not seem comfortable there,” Finn offered. “Dameron seemed to imply this engagement was not by choice. Seemed to imply a daughter was at stake.” Kylo’s head snapped up.

“A daughter?”

“Yes, she was expecting when you left, correct? She gave birth to a little girl, an Astrid.” Kylo was sure his heart was failing, how hard and tight his chest felt. He pulled in some air. He had a child.

“How could Hux threaten her?”

“Not sure; I’ll find out,” Finn pushed away his plate and reclined in his chair, his eyes watching Kylo struggle with the news. Kylo’s eyes glimmered wetly and he forced himself to stand up, to rest on the mantle, to realize he had other duties than destroying Hux and the First Order. For a moment, he debated whether this plan was worth it.

“Hux evicted a widow Douglas and her adopted child. Your mother found some temporary housing for them. Apparently he is going to turn the building into a boarding house. Said it was more efficient,” Finn told him, also mentioning the pay cut certain sailors had received. Men who had at one point served under Ben Solo. Apparently they were not efficient enough to meet Hux’s demands. Kylo gripped the mantle so hard it cracked. He stepped back and watched it crumble to the ground.

“We proceed as we discussed,” he said grimly. “I’m going out for a ride.”

“Don’t go see her,” Finn urged. “It hurts you too much.”

“I use my pain,” he tossed over his shoulder before mounting his dappled grey and trotting out into the evening light. He left the town and let the horse have his run until it was lathered in sweat and he smelt like sea and his anger felt dried up in his body, brittle and useless.

He had steered them to his old home. Rey, in a sensible grey dress, was carrying bundles of weeds to a compost pile, a little girl trailing behind her. Kylo’s heart hitched as he recognized his features in the small form. Leia was on the porch, calling to them. His home looked repaired, a new roof, the sagging porch a little tighter. Longing filled him, tears pricking his eyes until he blinked them away as he saw Hux riding up. Rey stiffened and Kylo felt a curl of satisfaction at her reaction. He needed more information. He needed to study them.

He sat up straighter in the saddle and guided the horse back to the path before cantering back into town, a plan forming in his mind.


	6. Crafting a Rival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey moves a bishop onto the board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More junk. Thanks for sticking with it!

Rey fumbles with the hogsbladder, trying to squeeze the seal over the jar of preserves. June had not quite arrived yet the heat pressed against the windows, sweat permanently staining her spine and pits, humidity turning her hair wild and her temper short. She spent her days collecting fruits of her labor, frantically preserving them. She had sent Edmund, Hux’s errand boy, into town earlier to try to sell peaches before they rotted on the ground. As she combed through the tomatoes and corn and beans, her mind kept drifting back to the ball.

How Hux showed her around, evaluating her, as if he were grading her potential to be his wife. She wasn’t sure why that irked her since she didn’t plan on assuming that position.

How she envied Leia’s easy ability to chat with people, how Leia understood how to talk to people. Rey’s experiences were limited to her close, and admittedly small, circle, and to transactions. She knew how to smile, how to beguile a potentially interested shopper when she was at her stall (when she actually bothered to go), how to close the deal. But she didn’t know how to move it beyond that. She carried the jealousy in the pit of her stomach that evening and it made her feel oily and useless.

How stupidly itchy that dress was.

How Kylo Ren and Hux and Finn were all exchanging glances and whispers, their eyes darting over her. How she was pulled on the dance floor between investors and First Order employees, trying to remember how to keep her smile up all the time. Hux's approving grimace as he watched Kylo Ren waltz with her around the room, how his eyes darkened with pleasure when Ren pulled her close. It made her shudder to remember. 

Her frustration mounted as she sensed there was something slipping between the three men, perhaps even Poe, and somehow she was a part of it, unwittingly. Perhaps.

“There are too many games being played and I don’t like being the middle!” Rey shouted as she slammed the jar down. Too late she remembered it was one of her more fragile ones and it cracked, leaking preserves on the table. Rey swore as Leia strolled into the room.

“Whose games outside of yours with Hux, my little Penelope?” Leia began transferring the preserves into another container while Rey hastily cleaned up, swearing again at the loss of food. She kicked at the table leg and stomped outside, irritation flooding her. She wanted to punch someone, to feel something break under her fist. As she glared at the sky, she saw a ship pull into harbor, heard the bells of the church. The town would be excited, she mused for a moment. Silly townfolk who had gotten more than their fair share of gossip from the ball. She blew out her breath in an angry huff.

Screw the townfolk. Hadn’t they spit on her and ignored her when she had worked in the Spouter Inn, some even offering to pay her for a tumble? And when Leia had arranged her marriage to Ben hadn’t these same folks called her trash and told her that she was lucky she found a man who would want her?  Now they tell her she’s not worthy enough for Hux, stupid, silly, vain Hux, his preening, his passing her off like a bit of meat to Mr. Kylo Stinking Ren who was overdressed and overperfumed and had his ears too much like her Ben but none of his charm or sensitivity or his wry wit. She did admit that the long scar on his face had fascinated her as it had ruined his right side, too much knotted scar tissue, his smile never quite reaching the heights of the left, always crooked. She had to admit that he could make her laugh with his droll comments.

Leia had followed Rey outside and was rubbing her shoulders.

“You could always say no and deal with the consequences. What’s the worst thing that could happen? I can afford a place in town for the three of us and you could work in a bakery. Maz told me about her offer--it’s a good piece of land she is willing to set aside, a bit farther out than I would like, but you could raise Astrid as you want and Maz and Chewie would be nearby.” Rey screwed up her eyes and pushed Leia away. Why couldn’t she understand? Rey had fumbled to find the right words but she couldn’t. Because if she took Maz’s land, she would be owned by her. She would owe her something and Rey couldn’t stomach it.

Leia stared at her sympathetically, understanding etched in her aged features. Rather than soothing Rey’s frustration, it raised her ire more, a hot heat inside of her aching to get out.

“I can’t belong to anyone,” she spat out, hearing the ingratitude in her tone. Leia arched a brow.

“Maz doesn’t see it like that; she wants to protect you.”

“And I don’t need anyone’s protection! I’ve been doing fine! I’m fine!” Her voice was tilting higher and Rey couldn’t seem to stop the wail.

“Rey, you need protection. Hux is not an easy man and the longer you wait to decide, the more vicious he will be in dealing with you.”

“I earned this land! I don’t need to be given something else!” The words were out in a shriek and Leia’s eyes darkened.

“How is inheriting it from a man you married any different than accepting a gift from a friend? Are you saying you somehow earned this by sleeping with my son?” There was steel in those words and Rey could taste the danger. But she was past caring. She stared at Leia, realizing the uselessness in this conversation. Turning on her heel, she stalked off. She hit a run as soon as she entered the orchard and ran until her lungs burned and she couldn’t catch a breath.

Rey fell into the grass and wept. It had been so long since she had abandoned her mask and she allowed herself to sob into the earth, digging her nails into the ground.  After some time, the tears had dried and she lay in the field, the ground cool against her cheek. She felt cold, hollowed out. She would need to leave D’Qar, her farm. She couldn’t take either offer and she knew Hux was too cruel and too proud to accept her refusal.

Resigned, Rey sat up and started. Looking down at her, his face struggling to contain some emotion, was Kylo Ren. Rey brushed the back of her hand against her cheek to rub off the worst of the dirt but returned his look, defiant. She refused to apologize.

“Lovers quarrel?” Ren’s mouth quirked up. Rey snorted. She didn’t care about impressing this man. But he seemed delighted by her little noise.

“You are intruding in a private moment.”

“Is this your land?”

“Not hardly,” she scoffed.

“Then you are in fact intruding on mine because I was just now walking along here before you came tearing out of the woods. I only wanted to ascertain that you were not injured.” Rey tilted her head; there was something familiar about the way his voice rumbled, even if his vowels were tinged an accent he said was from Kingston. She knew a liar when she met one and he was definitely lying about something. But he wasn’t lying to her; it was lie to protect, she determined, and that she understood. It made kindred spirits of them, she reasoned,and for that, she could offer a bit of kindness.

“As you can see, I am fine,” she managed, her voice cool. Kylo laughed and looked away. She studied his profile, her eyes widening. There was something familiar about that patrician nose. She leaned forward, drawing her knees up to her chin. As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned and presented his scarred face back to her. She did not flinch.

“Perhaps you will let me escort you home?”

“No thank you.” He nodded and leaned on his cane.

“Then let me invite you to my own. I’m having just a few people over tomorrow night for dinner and cards. I’m sure Hux mentioned it to you?”

“We do not talk of such things.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot young lovers rarely speak at all.” His low voice dropped as his meaning was made clear. Rey jumped up, enraged.

“You presume much!”

Kylo eyes widened and he let his stare weigh on her. Rey felt the urge to shirk back. She felt as if he was drinking her in with his eyes, as if he found her desirable. And she remembered the way his hand had caressed her back for one moment at the ball, his large hand spread fully across her back, an impolite way to waltz. The drag of his thumb against her spine, her willingness to relax into it, the tenderness in his embrace as he moved her around the floor. Maybe there was another way, she thought, her mind racing.

“I am widow, sir, devoted to my child and to the memory of my husband. Whatever Hux seems to indicate about us is but what he presumes, sir. Not necessarily truth. We are not yet engaged.”

Kylo seems intrigued by her response, his eyes darkening, his lips tugging up into a smile. Rey knew he wasn’t laughing at her; he was attracted to her answer. 

“He doesn’t meet your approval?” Merriment in his voice.  

“Not many do,” she replied stately. “Good evening, sir.”

“Will I see you tomorrow eve?” He called, his voice eager.

“You may rely on it,” she tossed over her shoulder as she gathered her skirts, making care that he caught a glimpse of her leg as she headed up the hill. She recognized the heat in Kylo’s eyes. She could maneuver herself in a way to make clear there could be a rival to Hux. She knew Hux would lash out at Ren, leaving her relatively unscathed. She could count on the possessive violence in Hux. What she hadn’t counted on was her heart stuttering for a moment when Ren had smiled on her and her belly tightening, as if she knew that smile. She shoved the nagging thought away and promised she would explore it more fully when she was doing something dull, like embroidery.


	7. Rough Hands, Delicate Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is stupid. Let's post instead! 
> 
> Also, as an accountant, we are now in a slowdown after tax season and I've finally got the energy and time to think about this. I hope this makes PoorQueequg a little happy. :)   
> Thank you for reading.

Rey had arrived shortly before Hux, Leia on her arm. As Kylo had promised, this evening was a small gathering, intimate, a collection of the most prominent members in town. Jessika Pava and her husband, Arthur, a First Order man. A Captain Snap Wexley, his brass buttons glimmering in the candlelight.  Unlike Hux’s sprawling home, Kylo’s was small, neat, and masculine, with dark furniture and thick, rich fabrics.  Instead of smoky oil lamps, he preferred candles, the wax dripping down the sides, the rooms cozy and welcoming. Rey quickly found Poe in the drawing room, chatting with Finn. 

“Good evening, my queen!” he called and gallantly bending over her hand, his lips brushing her knuckles. Rey laughed and turned to his companion. “This is Finn Archer. You perhaps remember him?”

“We met at Hux’s ball,” Finn interjected, his dark eyes searching Rey’s face. She frowned slightly, wondering why he was scrutinizing her. 

“I’m sorry we did not get much of a chance to know one another,” she replied, keeping her eyes down. “Please continue on as before. I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Naaah, we were talking about banking. Bit of a bore, that,” Finn drawled.  Rey chuckled, pleased to hear her sentiments reflected back to her.  Poe had snickered as well.

“Says the man who is probably going to take my job away from me,” Poe challenged. “This guy strolls into Resistance one day, demanding a meeting. He’s from one of the First Order branches down south. He’s here to help us with our competition.” Finn smiled thinly.

“Maybe. We are still considering your offer.” 

“We?” Rey asked, watching the banter between the two, the warmth between both men, the way Poe bit his lip before grinning at Finn. She knew that smile; he was pleased with something and she wondered if it were Finn. She had briefly thought at one point that Poe had preferred men but did not think much of it. She had once seen a man rutting with a horse. At least another human could rut back. She was becoming jaded, she ruefully thought before tuning back into the conversation. Finn was looking at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry? I missed the question.” 

“I was asking what you thought about the differences between the First Order and Resistance. They seem to be the only two in this town, quite a surprise given its prominence to the merchant shipping industry.” 

Rey shrugged. “I care very little about the banks. Of course, since Mrs. Organa Solo is involved with Resistance, it is my preferred bank.”

“Why care so little about banks?” Finn pressed. Rey drew her brows together, confused by the man’s intensity. 

“They are so inconsequential,” she replied. “Unless you choose to do a deal with them and even then it’s a devil’s deal. You never know when a bank will call in the chips.” Finn shook his head, amazement on his face. 

“No, banks are a key part of any vibrant country or city. Banks allow currency to circulate. They serve several functions, one of which is to invest in the people wherever they are located. They profit off an interest given but offer other products to ensure success. So if a bank loans to someone opening a bakery, they want to ensure the success. The baker does well he puts more money into a bank’s accounts. He hires more people who put their money into a bank’s account. The bank collects the interest and invests it in stocks or another loan to a business. More people are hired, more jobs are needed--a seamstress, a fabric buyer, someone to ship in goods, postal service. A town grows into a city and suddenly more buildings are going up. All because the bank invested in its people. 

“A bank that sees a city as property that it owns unilaterally is not a bank creating assets. It’s creating a problem. If it owns, for example, a boarding house, it’s income is a flat stream from rentals, assuming it’s priced well. But no interest. No additional products. And people don’t want to mix their home with their bank because if one is lost so could be another.” 

Rey nods, biting her lip. She had not quite thought of banks as central to a city’s growth but as a cancer, taking away people’s homes, forcing the ship owners to give pay cuts to the sailors. She could see a few problems with that theory and opened her mouth to argue when she felt Hux’s hand on her back and she stiffened. She could tell from the sweat coating his palm that he was furious. 

“Well, if it isn’t the plucky little neighborhood bankers,” Hux sneered. “Ready to come play for the big boys, Dameron?” 

“Only if you are ready for me to repeat that beating several weeks ago,” Poe’s voice was cold, his back straight, his easy demeanour swallowed up by Hux’s challenge. Hux smiled thinly back, his ire rising.

“Boy I’m starving,” Rey jumped in before turning to Hux. “Good evening, Mr. Hux. Now perhaps you can convince our host to let us eat? I hear you are on good terms.” Hux beamed at her, pushing her away from Dameron. 

“Of course. You’re in for a treat as Kylo Ren prefers only the very best,” he said, his voice carrying to Poe and Finn who were deliberately ignoring them. 

“Well, you only live once so the best is preferable,” drawled Kylo, walking around the corner. He smiled gamely at Hux and Rey, lifting his brow at Rey as he eyed Hux’s arm around her. She  licked her lips,conscious of the weight of his gaze.

“Come, I have had my very talented cook prepare us a feast this evening. I am very much looking forward to lively conversation. If I may have the pleasure of escorting Mrs. Solo? I believe Captain Wexley would like a word, Hux.” His voice was commanding and Rey was surprised to see Hux straighten and with a polite smile, he handed Rey off to Ren and headed toward Wexley. Ren offered his arm and Rey eagerly slid hers through his, her hand resting politely on top of his broad one. 

“I am pleased that you came tonight,” his voice low, confidential. Rey made sure to tip her head at him and grin.

“I am glad that I came. But I wasn’t lying; I am quite hungry.” He chuckled and guided her into the dining room.

“Excellent because I have a feast planned. I imagine farming is quite strenuous work.” 

“Quite. I doubt most people in this room could handle it.”

“Why is that?”

“For one thing, your hands get ruined. See how mine are in thicker gloves? They are covered in calluses.” She lifted her hands up, shod in dark grey, grateful she could be honest, could read the genuine interest in his eyes. She wasn’t a fool; she knew his charm lay in his ability to act interested in everything. “For another, the hours are long, you are up at dawn and not even the animals are grateful for your sacrifices.”

Kylo Ren stopped just inside of the dining room, next to a wide bay window that looked out onto a private beach.The sky over the sea was already darkening, an azure over layers of peach and lavender and rose. Her breath caught in her throat. Ren’s dark form against the window, the dying light brightening the tight and shiny scarred skin. He held her hands and looked into her eyes. 

“These hands make bread, bring food to your family, provide for yourself and from my understanding, a child and Mrs. Organa Solo. Never be ashamed of them. It takes great courage to wake up at dawn every morning and to face those ungrateful beasts, man and animal alike. I think they are the most beautiful hands here.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her knuckles and the breath caught her in throat. She was annoyed at the little squeak she gave as her cheeks flushed red. Ren gazed gravely at her and she felt the tightening in her belly again.

Desire.

She forgot what that felt like. And now it was rushing through her, drowning out all other sounds but her harsh breathing, all other senses than the warmth of his hand holding hers. 

She felt his hand on her back as he guided her to her seat, where Hux was waiting, deep in conversation with Wexley. She felt bereft as he left her to take his place at the head of the table and shook her head to collect her thoughts. She grabbed at the glass of red wine and took a deep swallow, hoping the heat from it would disguise the blush on her face. 

Kylo gazed at Rey, admiring the line of her long throat as she was gulping down some of his finest Bordeaux. She winced as the wine hit her stomach and he had to stop himself from reprimanding her; he knew she had a bad habit of forgetting to eat while working and he had snuck away to watch her harvesting plump tomatoes and checking corn ears. He had noticed Hux had examined her hand before holding it and he felt disgust weigh in his belly. Hux was too fastidious by half; even as a sailor, he hated washing the deck, tarring the hides, swinging in the lines above the deck. Kylo was grateful that the one time he was conscripted on a whaler that Hux wasn’t aboard although, he thought, it would give him great pleasure to push him into a whale’s gut to root out ambergris. 

He tapped his wine glass and stood up. He felt Rey’s eyes latch onto him and he forced himself to inhale. Stars, how he missed the intensity of her gaze. “Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” he finally forced out, his voice rough. “I want to thank you for your kindness in bearing with me this evening for a bit of food and conversation. I don’t mean to overwhelm you or bore you with my questions--I am just so curious to learn about all of you and to find the best way that I can be a part of your wonderful town, which I hope to make my home this while.” Everyone cheered and toasted with him, Hux’s gaze pregnant with meaning. Kylo knew exactly what Hux wanted and Kylo was baiting his hook with enough chum to interest even the fullest shark. 

The servants came in bearing a rich meal. Consomme, haricots vert, stuffed quail in port sauce, veal seasoned with mushrooms, almond, and garlic, and pork loin and this just the first course. He observed Rey’s eyes widening, her tongue slipping out to run over her bottom lip and he smiled. He remembered her love of quail and had requested it for this evening; it didn’t hurt that Hux disliked it intensely. 

Conversation was light as the group fell on the food. Kylo was pleased to see Rey lavish her plate but felt irritation bloom as he saw Hux lean over and quietly chastise her for taking too full a plate. Rey’s face became still, immobile. He knew a storm was lurking below.  

“Well, I for one, cannot wait to dig in!,” Kylo spoke up, tipping his voice higher and he took care to  seem to enjoy the soup in front of him. To his right was Leia and to his left, Hux. He saw Hux squirm in his seat.

“Moderation, my dear Kylo,” he ground out in as solicitous a voice as possible. “After all, we want you to be fit enough for the races next month.”

“Races?” he asked, making sure his voice was curious, although he knew exactly to what Hux was referring. 

“The annual church picnic and games.  Lawn bowling and horseshoes, for the older gents, three legged races and rowing for us younger ones.” Hux replied. 

“And this year the ladies auxiliary will be hosting a special meal for veterans and the homeless. We are still looking for donations if anyone is interested,” Leia chimed in. Hux sneered. 

“Homeless? That would bring down the tone, don’t you think?” his voice droll. 

“I hardly think it’s Christian of us to refuse to feed people when it’s a church picnic,” Rey jumped in, her voice sharp. “We don’t know how these people arrived at being homeless; perhaps they lost everything when a ship sank; perhaps family members needed a lot of medical attention and they are now bereft as a result.”

“Or lost their home to a bank calling in a loan,” Poe snipped. Kylo kept his face smooth, his eyes locked on Hux, whose lips were pressed together in a small line. He seemed to ignore Poe and twisted to look at Rey. 

“I know you are still struggling to get over your less prosperous days, Rey, but once we are married, you will perhaps have less sympathy for these people. After all, the First Order and I personally give quite a bit to charity,” he glared at Poe. “As you all know, the First Order Bank sponsors a coat and clothing drive in winter and a Christmas dinner. It’s not as if we are heartless.”

“No just comfortable tossing widows out on the streets,” Poe taunted. Finn shot Kylo a panicked look who gazed blankly back. He was enjoying the fighting between the parties and snuck a quick look at his mother who seemed to be enjoying it as well, a smile on her lips as she sipped from her wine glass. Oh she had trained Poe well. 

“Gentlemen, may I remind you ladies are present?” Finn cut in. 

“This lady doesn’t mind,” Leia replied.

“Nor this one,” Rey shot back. “Why should ladies be forbidden from certain conversations? It’s not as if our lives are not affected.” 

“This is hardly conversation suited for ladies as it involves moral philosophy. Studies have shown that ladies have smaller brains and therefore don’t have the same intellectual capacities as men. Dr. Clarke has even shown that women who go to college are not nearly as successful as mothers and that can lead to the decline of civilization as we know it,” Hux stated, his voice firm, daring her to argue. Rey does not disappoint. 

“And I supposed it’s just luck that my farm does as well as it does.”

“Luck and Solo happened to select an excellent plot of land. Quite fertile, wonderful drainage. You had the fortune to marry well.” Rey clenched her fists, her face absolutely livid. Below the table, Kylo was bending his fork so hard it snapped. Wrath flared within him, wrapped around his heart, encouraged him to take umbrage at the way Hux trod on way. He was outraged that Hux thought it was absolutely acceptable to speak this way to anyone in public and at his table. His pleasure at Rey’s fire and his fury at Hux’s dismissal of her warred with one another. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping to quell the savageness he was sure was on his features. 

“Enough,” he ground out his voice rough. “My apologies to Mrs. Solo. I did not mean for tonight to become quite so….uncivilized.” He shot Hux a quick glance who had the intelligence to bend his head and look ashamed. He leaned over and mumbled something to Rey who seemed to be aware that she had to at least look as if she forgave him. She nodded jerkily. 

“Again, Mrs. Pava, Captain Wexley, everyone--I was hoping for some pleasant conversation. Of course, differences of opinion are welcome but we should be able to reach amicable agreements, no? This is why I would prefer to discuss nothing of importance at meals--I don’t wish to invite unsettled stomachs to my table. May I suggest the merits of velvet over silk--after all, what man wears is but an outward picture of himself.” Kylo forced to keep his voice light, his attitude foppish, a sly grin on his face. He was confident of his success at Wexley’s dry laugh and Mrs. Pava’s blush. Kylo gently guided the conversation to lighter topics, to the summer’s celebrations, the young men coming home from college, the latest fashions from Paris. 

He occasionally glanced at Rey, dismayed to see her picking at her food, her mouth slightly sullen, despite Mrs Pava’s engagement with her. Hux was nattering away at Kylo who remembered to nod and smile when needed; Hux was happy with his own voice, after all. As dinner ended and everyone gathered themselves to move into separate quarters, Kylo encouraged Hux to go on ahead and select his brandy and moved to grab Rey’s arm. He was too late; Poe had her, his arm around her waist, Leia at her other side. His lip curled as he watched them escort her away and he vowed to ensure Hux’s suffering. 

“He’s yours,” Finn whispered at his side. “Go, lure him in. I’ll entertain Mrs. Solo.”

“Thank you,” he struggled to keep his voice from cracking. 

“Try not to kill him,” Finn warned. Kylo turned to give him a cold smile, filled with violence, before smoothing over his face as he walked out with Captain Wexley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried not to be too tied to 19th century mores; however, for Rey to mention Christianity as she does is entirely in keeping with early Victorian mores. In the time of this story, America would be changing as a result of the Second Great Awakening. Church revivals were more common and social activism as a response to Christianity was growing as the mode to show faith.   
> There was a Dr. Edmund Clarke in the later half of the 19th century who posited that as women's minds grew, their ovaries shrank and therefore if overly educated, they would no longer be able to produce, thus dooming the human race. This type of thinking was common in certain circles, certainly part of the reasoning why women shouldn't be able to vote.


	8. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey tells of how she became Mrs Solo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lunch hour chapter. Some exposition is needed but the plot picks up pretty fast in the next chapters. 
> 
> And a cliffhanger! 
> 
> This was written at lunch on my phone so all of the errors are mine, mine, mine.  
> Thank you for reading!

After dinner, the company broke apart as per custom. Kylo had his library prepared with brandy and cigars and was not surprised to see his mother slip in, ignoring mores that dictated women remain separate. If he recalled, she enjoyed a cigarillo occasionally with scotch and he had ordered those as well. Finn and Poe had Rey in hand and were guiding her to a couch by the fire.

After a while, the men drifted into the sitting room and Jessika sang while Leia played the piano. Jessika sat down after everyone politely clapped and Leia twisted to address Rey, to order her to come up and sing. Rey protested.

“Oh, please, Rey,” pleaded Hux. “Your voice is lovely, as you know.” Kylo lifted a brow, wondering why Hux was trying flattery now when he didn’t before. He could see Hux’s hand on her shoulder, Rey’s slight grimace and he had to suppress a growl. This was more difficult than he had anticipated; he didn’t think he could watch Hux touch his wife one more time without violence breaking out.  Rey only lifted her chin and gracefully moved to stand by the piano, exchanging a quick look with Leia.

“This is a newer one,” she began haltingly. “The Reverend Ware’s wife taught it to us just a last week so I hope to give a fair impression to the writer.” She cleared her throat, stood up straight and opened her mouth, a clear and low voice emerging. Kylo allowed himself to relax, allowed himself to remember his Rey humming in the kitchen, singing as she pulled weeds. She had selected Abide With Me and he couldn’t help but note her eyes blinking, her long lashes wet as she moved toward the end.

 

_I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;_

_Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness._

_Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?_

_I triumph still, if Thou abide with me._

 

Kylo led the room in cheering her performance as she blushed in pleasure and sedately sat next to Hux who seemed to think the applause was for him by the way he was nodding and smiling. Kylo inhaled sharply and felt Finn’s hand on his own, a warning glance in his eyes. He swallowed and excused himself. Hux’s saving grace was Rey’s apparent lack of comfort in them as well; if she had responded, Kylo wasn’t sure how he’d react, how he would contain the storm inside.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hux, I do believe Mr. Dameron would like you to join his set,” Finn interrupted the whispering between Hux and Rey. Hux looked up, a pleased gleam in his eye, challenge accepted. He stood, pulling his dinner shirt down sharply and excused himself and Finn slid onto the couch next to Rey.

“Feeling better?” he asked without preamble. Rey’s eyebrows lifted and he admired her poise. “I could sense your conversation was getting tense so I decided you needed rescuing. Not like you need to be rescued but a moment to breathe.”

“Thank you,” she said wryly. “Yes, I do suppose it was getting intense.” She cocked her head and gave Finn an evaluating look. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“Such as?”

“How you came to be in D’Qar, for example.”

“Mr. Ren and I have similiar interests. We believe in helping people, in making a difference in the world. He believes in small gestures, I believe in bigger ones. So, we compromise.” Finn explains, gesticulating as he talks. Rey leans against the couch and lets herself enjoy his voice, the way his accent clips his consonants, draws out his vowels, his little smile as he speaks with fondness of his employer.

“Give me an example of something you’ve done.” Her voice is cool and commanding, her interest immediate. Finn pauses, his eyes searching as he thinks.

“Tit for tat, Mrs. Solo. If I do this, I expect full disclosure from you,” he replied and she gestured, her implication that she was game apparent in her welcoming gaze. “Mr. Ren has a weakness for widows, so be warned as he will become overly solicitous of you.” She giggled at this and Finn plowed on. “ An older woman had fallen on hard times after her husband died and her bank called in the loan. She was unable to pay it and was going to move out of the house her husband had left her. They had spent their whole life there, raised their children together there, given birth and witnessed death. Her oldest daughter was also living there with some sort of illness.

“Mr. Ren was on the board of the bank; he personally purchased the loan and took it over for her. I was able to find a doctor newly arrived from England in town and convince him to take the daughter as a patient. When we left, they were safe and comfortable in their family home and the daughter was recovering and engaged to the doctor.” Rey laughed, a pleasant sound in the drawing room at the end of the story. Finn noticed Hux had sharply looked up and narrowed his eyes at the pair. Daringly, Finn laid his hand on Rey’s for a moment.

“And which one played matchmaker?” she was teasing.

“Me, of course!”

“Of course, I apologize for my impertinence,” she said through her laugh. Seizing the moment, Finn turned so he was more fully facing her and he took her hand again. He could feel Hux’s gaze on him again, a droll rebuke from Poe to tell Hux to play or to leave.

“Now your turn. Tell me of yourself.”

“What would you like to know? I think it’s pretty apparent that I’m a farmer, a widow, a mother.”

“Yes, but these are all roles you fulfill. They aren’t necessarily you,” his voice was low and urgent. She drew back at his familiarity and inwardly, Finn cursed. He was moving too quickly.

“I am what I do. Without the farm, I would starve and so would my daughter. She learns to care for herself. And we are blessed that the farm does well enough that we are never wanting, that I don’t need to struggle and worry and give up food myself to keep her well and growing. And I can never forget my husband because we would not be so fortunate if he had chosen lesser land. I can never forget him because my daughter is an exact copy of him, down to his ears, poor girl. Rey Solo, whoever she was, died the day Ben Solo did and I became focused on surviving one day to the next. ” Rey is breathing a bit hard at the end, her cheeks flushed, almost indignant. Finn bowed his head.

“I apologize for speaking out of line.”

Rey says nothing, staring down at the carpet. They sit awkwardly for a moment.

“No I should apologize,” she speaks finally, her voice low and rough. “These four years have been difficult. I had thought marrying Ben would free me from a lot of work; he had promised we would share the burden together. I was scraping together an existence by working odd jobs before his mother took me in. She had witnessed two men cornering me in an alleyway and was prepared to call the police before she saw me defending myself. She decided then to bring me into her house, to educate me, to help me find a better position, such as a baker apprentice or girl in a flower shop or if I did really well, a governess.”

“How did that turn into marrying her son?” Rey chuckled softly and looked up at him, her eyes boring into his.

“I have no idea why I’m telling you this. It’s far beyond polite conversation.”

“I never cared much for it. We are given but moments in life and we play at conversation as if it were a game of billiards, as if it means nothing.” He lets his gaze settle on her, his hand clasping hers. “I prefer to live my life as if all meant something.” She says nothing, only pulls her hand away and lifts her chin. He’s beginning to recognize that gesture as if buying time to collect herself, collect her pride. He thinks she lies to him; Rey Solo is very much alive, very much more than the roles that she plays but she has done them so well for so long that she can no longer differentiate what is her and what needs to be her. He briefly hopes Kylo wraps up his plot soon, reveals himself to Rey soon. It would heal both of them and it was apparent they were both tending wounds, both almost missing limbs.

“Ben was a wild man. He took risks all the time. One time his ship was caught in a terrible storm and one of the greenhorns was swept out to sea. He tied a rope around himself and dove in, pulling the boy out and himself with his strength alone. He strapped himself to a wheel all night to make it through the storm. Another time they were apparently stranded and he rowed with his men through the night, pushing himself so hard he tore his hands to bits from the oars. He needed to keep them bandaged for weeks, they were absolutely shredded. To the day he left, he still sometimes struggled with bending one of his fingers. All to allow his men some rest.

“When he was younger, he served under a tyrant of a man. The captain wanted to whip a young boy for a simple mistake. Ben took the whipping in his place and the captain gave him twenty lashes. The captain did it more than once and Ben nearly died. Eventually he led the men in an uprising and, of course, was court martialed for it.

“That was the last straw for Leia. She had seen us at the dinner table and we often went to social events when he was in town. When Ben was home, he would help me with my Latin; I’m still woefully inadequate at it despite both of our efforts. She decided marriage was needed to give Ben a reason to keep himself safe at sea. She encouraged Ben to find a suitable bride and he said he refused to marry someone he didn’t enjoy being around, who was afraid to her hands dirty. She proposed me and he accepted.” Rey kept her voice even throughout, refusing to betray any emotion. Finn detected a hitch in her voice toward the end and reached for her hand again. She laughed, a wet and sad sound. “Stop holding my hand. You’ll get in trouble. Hux is a possessive man.”

He gave her a grim smile. “I would gladly take a fist in the face for the pleasure of comforting you.” She stopped and eyed him warily. He did not flinch under her gaze. He could hear the terror in the way she said Hux, how sharply her voice rose. He knew in that moment that this was an engagement she did not want. It was all the opening Kylo would need.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, “ he managed to say. “I can see you lost both a friend and a husband.”  She dipped her head and wiped a tear away. He handed her his handkerchief and she sniffled, giving him a small smile. He kept his voice cheerful: “Now to lighter topics, please tell me you wore such an awful dress to the ball.” A laugh bubbled out of her mouth and she tipped her head back to let it out and Finn found himself admiring her, her clever mind, her ready smile.  A quick glance to his left showed Hux was struggling to contain a glare, a possessive gleam in his eyes. Finn’s heart trembled for a moment; it was not directed at him but at Rey. A worry began to form, began to nag. He excused himself from her and went to find Kylo.

 


	9. Bruising Devotion, Tender Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey discovers just what kind of man has proposed to her and Kylo Ren discovers what true rage is.  
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE 
> 
> Also, I cannot write sex to save my life but I hope you enjoy it. This is a long chapter but I decided not to separate the two. Thank you so much for reading.

Rey found herself reluctant to leave the good company at Kylo’s house. He knew how to bring the right sorts of people together and she observed how he slid in and out of conversations, how he eased the introduction of people who did not know they had similar interests. She was pretty sure Arthur Pava and Snap Wexley were going to become best mates. Leia had formed a trio with Poe and Finn and even Rey had discovered herself warming up to Finn, hoping to meet with him again. She had expected Leia to ride back with her but she deferred; the widow Osmond was ailing and Leia had agreed to take the midnight watch. Hux had stepped in and offered to make sure Rey arrived home safe and sound. Rey knew that meant he wanted a night cap and hoped it did not include more kisses. 

They entered her home and he immediately strode over to stoke the fire and to light a few candles. Tiredly, she dropped her shawl on the table and leaned over to wake up the neighbor who had agreed to watch Astrid. She offered her to stay the night but she refused and Hux accompanied her home. Hoping that was the last of him, with a kind smile and a hand on his arm as she bid him good night, Rey checked on Astrid before slumping in the chair before the fire, musing over Finn and Kylo Ren. 

Such an unlikely pair. She wondered why neither were married; she surmised the scar would scare away timid women but his seemingly endless wealth would overcome that fear for others. She wasn’t sure about Finn but she sensed he wasn’t interested in marriage; probably a confirmed bachelor with his joie de vivre. Still, she believed she had made a friend and was pleased. She was starting to drift off when Hux burst open the door and strode in, dropping his hat and gloves next to her shawl. She sat up, fully awake. 

“Good evening, Hux,” she stammered. “Did Mrs. Jones make it home alright?”

“She’s fine. I’ve just come in to spend some time with my fiancee who apparently found it more enjoyable to be entertained by other men this evening than by me,” his face twisted as he spat out his words, his teeth flashing like sharks in the dim room. Rey tensed, a prey sighted by something large and hungry. 

 

She had read him wrong. 

She had made a mistake. 

She was going to pay for it and it would hurt. 

 

She shoved down the dread climbing up her throat. 

 

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me, Rey?” His voice was low, pleading, a snarl underneath. 

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.” Keeping herself as still as possible, trying not to attract him too much.  

“First, you show up poorly at the ball and that I’m ready to accept. After all, you did an admirable job of entertaining my guests, even though you cannot dance. And in a persian blue gown at least five years out of date. I could have provided for you Rey. Now I look like a man who does not have his fiancee’s interests at heart.”

“I do not need your--” Hux held up a hand, his eyes hard, trapping her in his glare as he slowly made his way to her.  She shut her mouth.

“Be quiet, Rey. A wife should speak when spoken to.”

“I am not your wife.” 

He smiled thinly, stopping in front of her.

“No, not yet. But soon.”

Anger surged through her and she bolted upright. 

“I do not belong to you.” Firmly, her eyes flashing proud, her fists clenched at her sides.  

“No, that’s right, you are slavishly devoted to an idiot who probably couldn’t bring you to come with all of his righteousness. But I can teach you pleasure, Rey. And I will no longer take waiting as an answer. We will marry this fall.” Rey’s hand shot out and the sound of the slap filled the room. She pulled back to slap him again before his hand darted forward and she found herself in the chair again, her mouth cut from his ring. Her rage overrode the pain and she kicked up with her foot. He sidestepped it and reached forward to catch it, a sickly pleased smile on his pallid face.  

“Oh no, sweetheart. Isn’t little Astrid  asleep in the next room? You wouldn’t want me to wake her would you?” He smirked sweetly, darkly, and Rey felt ill, frozen. Hux squeezed her leg, digging his nails into her calf and she gave a little whimper. “Give me a little pleasure tonight, Rey, and I will forgive all your errors. I might even let you keep little Astrid here when you are my wife.”

Terror was nowhere near the right word to describe Rey in that moment but she could not move, a rabbit caught in the snare of a predator, his gaze heavy on her body. He did not wait for her consent; he seized her wrist in his hand and pulled her up, grasped her hair and she let out a gasp. He grinned and leaned toward her. “Exactly my pleasure. Good girl.”

She felt sickness pooling in her stomach, bile rising in her throat. She closed her eyes and prayed for her daughter’s safety as she felt Hux grab her ass, squeeze it tight, shove her close to him. He placed his face next to hers and took a deep breath, rubbing his stubble against her cheek. He began laying kisses on her, slowly, wetly, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. Rey jerked away and his hand shot out, grasping her by the neck. And he began to squeeze.

Rey was gasping hard, her eyes bulging, scratching out with her nails. He dug his thumb into her throat and she gagged. Quickly, he backhanded her and she stumbled, her foot catching on the rug, tripping and slamming her head into the side of the bureau before tumbling to the ground. She lay on the floor, gasping, spots dancing before her eyes.  

“Two left feet. Can’t walk, can’t dance. No wonder Ben left as soon as he did his husbandly duty,” he taunted, his voice brimming with desire and pleasure. She bit back a cry and struggled to stand up. Her face ached and he grabbed it roughly, pinching her face at her chin, jamming his nails into her flesh. He rammed his lips onto hers, thrust his tongue into her mouth. Without thinking, Rey bit down. With a swear, Hux jerked back and punched her in the gut. Rey grunted and stabbed her shoulder into his chest. He took a step back before grabbing her and pushing her. The back of her knees hit her chair and buckled. She collapsed into the chair and scrambled into it, pulling her knees up, poised to lash out but Hux seemed spent, a wild gleam in his eyes, a wolfish smile on his face.

“If that is to be the taste of our wedding night, I cannot wait,” he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise. Rey wanted to shudder, wanted to scream, but stayed still, pain throbbing in her throat, her face. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will find new and creative ways to punish Astrid. Don’t think I won’t, Rey. I take what is mine and there is no man here who could tame you, could give you what you need.” His eyes took a fanatic gleam. “Don’t you see  Rey? It was meant to be. I could give you the lifestyle you deserve. You were meant for more than dirt and work; your skin is ripe and perfect and deserves to covered in rich silks and delicate fabrics, to be worshipped by a man. You are a queen and should rule this town, a king by your side.” Hux falls to his knees in front of her and this version terrorizes Rey more than the violent one before. She knows what to do with brute physicality; she doesn’t know what to do with this twisted devotion.

Hux seizes her hand and kisses it, before eyeing her and turning her hand over, running his tongue over her palm and groaning. Rey flinches and tugs her hand back, curling it against her chest. Hux stares at her, his eyes burning with a heat that turns her cold. She says nothing, returning his gaze evenly. With a sigh he pulls himself up, fastidiously adjusting his clothes, running his hand through his red hair, his blue eyes weary, sated.

“There is no one else here for you, Rey. I will be devoted to you until you realize how much I truly do care for you.” His voice is rough and he bends down to trail his fingers down the curve of her cheek almost tenderly. “Should you need anything while you heal, you only need to send Edmund.” With that, he picked up his hat and gloves and left her tightly balled into the armchair, the fire burning weakly.

Silence descended except for this pesky wheezing that filled the room. It took Rey a moment to realize it was her, heaving, her voice raspy, a deep ache in her bones. Like a little coward, she was shaking, she thought, before forcing herself to calm down as the worry that he could return seized her with terror. Rey gingerly pulled herself out of the chair, her knees creaking, her stomach smarting, her mouth burning. As she took a step toward the door, the knock came. Rey froze; no, he couldn’t be back, why would he come back, didn’t he already have what he wanted? Her eyes darted toward the fireplace and she grabbed the poker, clutching it to her, pulling it back, poised to jab it in his gut.

 

The knock again and then a voice--”Mrs. Solo? I’ve come to make sure you made it home safely.”

That commanding baritone. 

Kylo Ren. 

 

Furiously, Rey wrenched open the door. “Yes, I’m fine,” she snarled, choking out the words, her voice struggling through her bruised vocal chords.  Kylo said nothing, just stared at her, his eyes widening. She saw his knuckles whiten on his cane, his lips compressed into a tight line, a fury in his eyes. 

“Hux did this to you.” It was not a question. Rey says nothing, slowly lowering the poker. Without asking, Ren pushed his way into the room, tossing his cane on the desk next to her shawl. “You need something on those bruises or they will get worse. Cloths? Cold water?”

“Kitchen,” Rey croaked, blinking back tears that threatened to rise. Not now, not now, she desperately thought. “But I can take care of myself. You should go.”

“The hell I should,” he tossed back as he marched toward the kitchen. He returned a moment later, a bowl and cloths in his hand. “Sit.” Rey moved stiffly toward the chair and groaned as pain shot up. She must have wrenched her knee in the fall. Swiftly, he placed the bowl down and strode toward her. “Hold still,” he ordered before grabbing her waist and bending down to pick her up. She cried out as his fingers brushed her sides. Carefully he readjusted her so that his hand was under her shoulders, until she lay almost supine in his arms. “Bedroom?” She pointed to the door to their right and he moved quickly into the small room before laying her gently on the bed. The room was dark, lit only by the moon outside, rending him a shadowy wrath, clothed in black. The moon threw his face in the shadows til she could only see the tight shiny scar, his eyes scanning her body. She felt her belly tighten in response and hastily, she directed him to the flint and he moved around the room, lighting a few candles with a clinical precision, his face closed off.

Rey let herself slump into the bed, let her eyes shutter, her body beginning to unwind. She was still shaking. She forced herself to focus on her breathing, pulling in air, pushing it out. She was lost in the mechanics when she felt the bed dip beside her, could hear Kylo Ren rummaging around. 

“I chipped some ice off a block in your storehouse,” his low voice was soothing, comforting. “This will sting.” She winced as he lay the cloth wrapped ice on her cheek. “But it will bring down the swelling. I need to examine the rest of you.” 

“I am quite fine without you. You’ve already done enough,” she kept her voice even. Kylo grunted. 

“I need to examine the rest of you. Where else did he harm you?” His voice became ragged. “Did he” he swallowed, hard. “Did he touch you?” Rey knew what he meant by the weight he had put in the word. But she was surly and couldn’t help but snapping: 

“Yes, he touched me plenty. Look at all the evidence.”

“You know what I mean!” Kylo snarled. Rey opened her eyes and looked at him, surprised at the horror on his face. He looked livid, he looked mournful. Slowly she shook her head. 

“No, he didn’t touch me sexually. He only wanted to hurt me. He appeared….he appeared to enjoy that.” Kylo’s breathing slowed but his eyes never left her face. Finally she broke the gaze and pulled herself up more fully. “My neck is where most of the damage is.” Her voice was still gravelly and she swallowed thickly.  

Kylo reached for her and she pulled away. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. He was still a stranger but kind in his administrations, she thought, marvelling at the strange man sitting on her bed, concern etched on his face, fury tugging at his lips. Astonishing herself, she nodded her consent. Carefully, she willed herself still as he reached out and tenderly ran his fingers down her neck, barely touching her. She heard him suck in his breath. “I can make a poultice but you are going to need high collars for at least a week. As for the rest of it, I imagine corsets are out.”

“I hardly wear those anyways,” she murmured and heard him dryly laugh. He stood up and left the room. She could hear him moving about in the kitchen and she leaned back against the pillows, sighing softly. Already the house felt safer with him here. Should Hux come back, she would have a defender and if not, she was keeping the poker by her bedside. 

Kylo walked softly into the room, mixing something in a bowl. As soon as the stringent smell of arnica hit her, she knew what it was and she groaned.

“It’s unpleasant but it will help. You don’t need to wear it all night,” Kylo snapped. “Now sit up and expose your neck.”

“Do you speak to all women in the bedroom this way? No wonder you are a bachelor,” Rey muttered under her breath. Kylo snorted as he sat down next to her. Rey pulled herself up and undid the first few buttons of her blouse to give herself better access. She had no desire for him to touch her any further, afraid the reaction his kindness would elicit. It had been so long since a man had nurtured her, been so attentive of her wellbeing. Her body craved it, craved to be held and caressed. Dangerous thinking. She reached for the bowl but he pulled it up, out of her reach. She glared at him. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Treating you.”

“It’s not proper.” Keep the lines clear, Rey thought, but she let her hand fall limply at her side, not truly protesting. 

“One, I don’t care. Two, what isn’t proper is a man who is courting you who treats you like this. After I’m done here, I’m going to thrash him like a dog.” He looked up as Rey darted forward and clutched his hands, terror on her face.

“No, don’t,” she whispered. “Say nothing.” Kylo’s face crumpled, his eyes saddened. He lowered the bowl and stared into her eyes. His dark hair curled over his forehead and his scar shined sickly in the light yet she discovered that she found him strangely handsome, that she wanted to taste his skin, to see if he tasted as rich as he smelled.  

“Rey, did you want this?” his voice is hesitant. She inhales shakily and considers her options. She closes her eyes and gives a slight shake of her head. Kylo exhales sharply. 

“Then you must allow me to challenge him.”

“He will hurt my daughter,” she blurts out. She opens her eyes to see thunder on his face. “He told me that if I mentioned this to anyone, he would find a way to hurt her. I believe him. Please don’t risk my daughter.” 

For a moment, Kylo says nothing. He turns from her to place the bowl on the table and busies himself with arranging cloths. He quickly exits the room and Rey sags, fearful that she somehow had pushed him away. He returned, a glass of brandy in his hand. He clears his throat before looking at her. 

“I won’t say anything,” he begins, his voice dark. “But if I were you, I would re-think his proposal.”

“His proposal,” Rey jeers. She takes the plunge, decides to risk full disclosure. She is aware that he is refusing to look at her, at the hint of her breasts in her open camisole. She wants his gaze back on her. She plows forward: “His threat, you mean. He will take this land from me if I don’t marry him. He will harm Astrid. This fall, he said tonight. He’s tired of waiting.”

“Take this land? I thought it was a gift from your husband?” The confusion is clear on his face, his forehead crinkling, his frown deep. Rey shrugged, weary of contracts and banks, tired of trying to figure it out, nights spent reading and re-reading the contract til her eyes were burning. Kylo Ren was a wealthy and powerful man. Having him as another ally could protect her in ways she had not yet conceived of. 

“Apparently it was dependent upon a clause with Snoke at First Order. And he didn’t fulfill it so it was forfeit.” She rolled her eyes and Kylo snorted. 

“That’s not exactly how contracts work. Send over a copy and Finn and I will examine it.

“Leia already tried, including using the loan I took out with Resistance to fix the house to hold him off. It didn’t work.”

“Send a copy. Finn is smarter than he looks,” Kylo stated in a voice that brooked no room for argument and Rey was too tired to press the point. Sensing her exhaustion, Kylo reached over and began to smear the ointment on her neck. She cried out at first, a little whimper escaping her lips, his quiet apology drawing a small smile from her. He was gentle, his fingers ghosting over her skin, his gaze intent. 

Rey sighed as he delicately wound a cloth around her neck. 

“Keep the ice on your cheek,” he whispered and helped guide the pack to her face. He began to fluff her pillows and moved off the bed. Rey gasped as he reached down and began to remove her shoes.  “I’m helping you. Just relax.” His voice was firm, but not sharp and Rey forced herself to keep breathing as he ran his hands up and down her legs, checking for bruising, as if she were a colt. She closed her eyes and swayed on the bed, lost in the feeling of his warm hands on her legs. 

“Oh darling Rey, how long has it been since you’ve had some tenderness in your life?” he breathed as he moved back next to her. Her breathing hitched and she was almost annoyed at her girlishness as his hands moved behind her head and began to card through her hair, loosening her buns, deftly scraping short nails through her scalp, massaging her gently. His hands trailed down to her shoulders, tenderly massaging her back. 

“You definitely don’t wear corsets,” he snorted and she giggled. He was watching her, his eyes dark and unreadable as his fingers kneaded her flesh. She moaned before blushing, embarrassed by her wantonness. She was not ignorant; she knew many widows had taken lovers. She had always refused, had stubbornly believed that Ben would return. But Kylo’s patient administrations, his shallow breathing in the room reminded her of how desire felt, the heat pooling in her belly. If he went any further, she didn’t think she would have the strength to say no. It was wicked and she relished in it, relished the fire his fingers were sparking in her back. She dug her fists into the quilt as Kylo placed his fingers on her chin and delicately tipped her face toward his. 

She stared searchingly into his eyes, examining them for some sort of judgment as he wound his hands in her hair. Feeling uncertain, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. She trembled, worried he would call her a siren, push her away, accuse her of tempting him. Relief flooded her when he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, his mouth fluttering gently against hers.  

“I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice uneven. Rey whimpered softly, pressed herself closer to him, hoping he could read her desire. He nibbled at her lower lip and she was rubbing her hands up and down his broad shoulders, reveling in the strength she could feel in his arms. She shut off the part of her brain screaming at her, telling her she lost all sense, as she opened her mouth and his tongue darted forward to lick at hers. He was pleasant, tasting of mint and scotch, and teasing, his tongue flicking against hers, before withdrawing and sucking on her bottom lip. She groaned in pleasure and found herself being pressed against the pillows, Kylo propping himself up on his elbows. She grimaced as her ribs protested. Quickly, he rolled over on his back, pulling her on top.

“Better?” he mumbled against her jaw, kissing her under her chin, the top of her throat before moving to pepper her face, his rough thumb caressing her cheek. For a moment, Rey was confused; she just met this man, this enigma who blew into town, and here she was sprawled on top of him, his hands running up and down her back, his mouth ravishing her skin, eliciting little moans from her. She had forgotten how to behave. She was forgetting her place; this would have consequences. She was panting hard as she thrilled at the feel of him against her and she gently pulled away, his thighs tingling as she felt something that had left her for years--she was wet, she was aching. She shuddered. 

“We cannot go any further,” she whispered as his hands slid between them, moving up to cup her breast. Kylo groaned and stilled, spreading his hand across her chest, not quite grazing her breast and she felt a sob threaten, felt bereft. He let his head fall back, his eyes closed as he visibly pulled himself together. She could feel his cock jabbing into her hip and she regretted her words as soon as she said them. But she couldn’t fall into this man’s bed; she had a child. She had Hux to worry about. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Kylo said: “I’m letting it be known that I am courting you. And if Hux lays a hand on you, he will face the consequences. I will protect you and your child.” He framed his face with his large hands. “You are a wild, wonderful, brave woman, Rey. You deserve a choice. Let me be that alternative.” 

Rey laughed dryly as she rolled off of him. “I think I already made a choice, didn’t I? I don’t exactly kiss every man who walks into my house.”

“I certainly hope not. I don’t have time to duel all the men in town,” his voice is grave and Rey shoots him a quick glance before realizing he is teasing. She chuckles in response and shakes her head, feeling her hair tumbling around her. His quip reminded her how close she came tonight to abandoning it all and letting a man take her to bed. She wouldn’t be known as an easy woman; she wouldn’t let lust dictate her actions. She wasn’t sure she knew the difference between lust and love and Ben’s ring burned, a brand on her finger. She sighed ruefully. 

“I’ve had offers. But I kept waiting for Ben to come home,” she replied. Kylo stills beside her. “It’s been over four years now. I guess he’s not coming back.” Suddenly, the night’s events rushed her and the grief she keeps walled up spills out and she begins to sob. Kylo pulls her to his chest, holding her to him, rocking her gently as she wept. She feels him grow cold, ashamed she is weeping over another man after she was all but rolling in her marriage bed with an almost stranger. 

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t mean to cry over another man.” He weaves his fingers between hers and places their hands on his chest, covering them with his large hand. She can feel his heart pounding and she pulls in a wet, shaky breath. She can’t resist this man; she’s longed for kindness, for this understanding from another. 

“Never apologize for being yourself, Rey,” he murmured against her temple and she shuddered, reaching up to pull his lips to her. He did not resist. “I am here at your pleasure,” he ground out between kisses. Rey pushed him back onto the bed, frantically kissing him, heat rising in her, too overpowering to ignore. She was no virgin quaking in bed (she’d played that role before) and knew what she wanted, what she needed, too long had denied. Let the disgust come later; he was almost pliant in her hands and she knew he would not hold this against her. He seemed almost eager against her, his cock thrusting up against her hips and she gave a little whimper of delight. 

“Give me pleasure,” she pleaded against his lips. He groaned and pulled her under him, framing himself around her. She grunted as he hit her bruised ribs and he moved quickly off her, sliding down her, trailing kisses on her chest, his beard brushing her open blouse, her body alight with eagerness.He surprised her by moving all the way down her body until his lips were dragging against her ankle, pressing up her leg, as he moved under her skirts. She gasped loudly as his fingers pulled at her drawers, his mouth on her knees, hot and wet. She jerked her hips up, her fingers fumbling at her skirt’s ties to help him, locking her ankles around his shoulders. 

He slid her drawers off of her, his rough hands scraping against her skin as he pulled them down. It sent bolts of hunger through her and she arched back. His stubble chafed against her and she felt herself ache, her body pressing against him. 

“Pleasure madam?” he asked, the question heavy in the air. Rey looked down Kylo Ren, crouched between her legs. the lust in his heavy lidded eyes, his lips swollen, his hair mused. She swallowed thickly.

“Only if you want it to, too,” she whispered. 

“My only wish is to please you tonight,” his words are thick, blooming fire under her skin and she let her head fall back, allowed herself to fall into sin. 

He slid back under her skirt, his fingers and mouth moving back up her thighs. She was trying to calm her loud breath, her chest heaving as she gave little cries as he moved closer to her hips. She nearly jumped when his knuckles brushed her lower lips, as his fingers parted her and she knows she moaned loudly as he pressed his tongue against her folds. She was lost in the building tightness in her belly as he moved gently against her, his fingers keeping her open, occasionally brushing her nub as he worked his tongue around it, letting his teeth scrape against her, her voice pitching higher until she was pressing the pillow against her mouth to quell her cries. He  lapped at her, running the flat of his tongue against her, suckling at her folds, his fingers massaging her. Hungrily, she ground her hips against him and he responded, thrusting his tongue hard into her, his teeth teasing and she was full, heavy between her legs, one hand tangling in his thick hair, running her foot up and down his back.  As if in response, she felt him slide a finger in her and she whimpered, felt him curl it inside of her and she was jerking her hips and he was placing one hand on her chest, trying to hold her still until finally she came, crying his name, the warmth flooding her body. He pressed a gentle kiss on her thigh before withdrawing. She lay in the bed quaking, trying to collect her scattered wits. 

Kylo dropped onto the bed next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She was floating in pleasure, trying to remember if she had felt this way before and deciding she didn’t care. She cuddled next to him, her heart still racing. He gave a masculine chuckle as she shuddered when he lay a kiss on her forehead. They remained snuggled next to one another before Kylo sighed. Rey sensed his reluctance as he sat up. 

“I need to return to my home,”he said mournfully. She nodded numbly, her lids heavy with drowsiness. He smiled at her and she recognized the pleased look on his face. “I will return tomorrow.”  
“You come back tomorrow, I’m putting you to work,” Rey promised. He laughed and tucked the quilts around her. She let her eyes drift close watching him blow the candles out, check the locks on the window before withdrawing. It was only as she finally fell into dreaming that she realized she never told him where she kept her ices or her medicines. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to the end of what I pre-wrote so posting will be slower now. But I have things sketched out and basically Rey is gonna get her pleasure for the next couple of chapters. Poor girl deserves something (I wonder why what I imagine doesn't quite make it to the page. Maybe more editing is needed, I suppose) 
> 
> Whoever made this playlist at 8 tracks: You are my inspiration. http://8tracks.com/crownarchival/i-turned-away  
> This one too: http://8tracks.com/wearedoomed/blue-gansey


	10. The Sinking of the Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's history with Hux revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting. I appreciate your time.  
> All errors are mine.

Kylo Ren mounted his horse, his face savage and he slapped his heels against the gelding’s sides, spurring the poor thing forward. His blood was on fire and he never felt the weight of the knife in his boot more, the heaviness of the sword at his side. He wanted nothing than to drag Hux from his bed and thrash him, shove his fists into his face until Hux was left raw, bleeding, and broken. To jam his blade deeply into Hux’s chest, to still whatever was ticking as his heart. 

 

His fury nearly strangled him, enraged with his inaction, as he got closer to home. He hopped down, grimacing at the ache shooting up through his leg and he carelessly tossed the reins to the stable boy before stomping into the house, grabbing the nearest vase and hurling it into the wall with a wordless shout. It smashed loudly and a small part of him took satisfaction from its destruction. He pulled the sword out of his cane and kicked the door to the sitting room open, thrusting his sword into the couch and tearing, ripping, repeatedly plunging it into the fabric until he was spitting feathers, his hair swinging wildly around him. He bellowed his rage and rammed his fist into the pillows, flinging a book across the room until it smashed into the liquor set, shattering, brandy dripping onto the rug. He punched the coffee table, reveling in the shock as it reverberated up his arm, slashed at its legs, kicked it into the corner until it cracked and he was spent, so spent, his heart racing, fear grabbing him by the throat.

Rey’s throat, the bruises encircling it, blooming into a vivid purple. Her split lip, swollen, dried blood caked in the corner of her mouth. Her split knuckles, her heaving breath as she commanded him to leave. His anger pulsed in him, a living thing, that he had to let free. He could taste blood in his mouth. He could still taste her on his lips, could still feel her body arching against him, heard her moan Ben’s name as he gave her a moment of peace. 

If he were not Ben Solo, he would be a jealous man. 

As it was, he was a vengeful man and it was time to put his plan into action. As much as he wanted to rip Hux’s guts out and pour kerosene over his body, he wanted Hux to experience sharp bright pain lasting more. Wanted Hux to understand what torture was, what Ben Solo felt as he floated out at sea, his face aflame, his skin cracking from heat and the dull burn from the salt and the cries of his men dying around him as his ship sank. All courtesy of Hux’s conniving. 

Kylo flung himself into a chair, grabbing the bottle of scotch from the floor where it lay unscathed. He uncorked it and swallowed deeply, grimacing at the fire as it burned down his throat. He played with the bottle in his hand, wondering how he arrived at this moment, surveying the destruction of the room around him. It had all started with the Artemis and his last trip to Cuba with a stop in the Carolinas. 

Kylo had suspected something was afoot the week before he left but wasn’t precisely sure what Hux had planned. Imagine his surprise when cook had come roaring up from the hold, informing him that they were all doomed. Ben had tore down into the hold and surveyed the damage. All the food bags had been replaced with sawdust, the barrels of freshwater replaced with brackish filth. They were two weeks out from the closest shore, taking the far swing into the Carolinas, and they wouldn't make it, even with half cup rations. Hux had personally signed off on the provisions; he had doomed the crew. 

Ben hustled up to the deck to find his first officer before skidding to a stop. At the forecastle stood a group of men, pistols out, their faces grim, a lifeboat up on gunwales and loaded with provisions. He snarled, his hand quick to his sword at his side. 

“Stop it, you idiot, you won’t survive,” sneered Mitaka. Ben growled. He should have guessed that Mitaka was Hux’s man, through and through. 

“What are you doing?” Ben hollered, tightening his grip on the sword, his other hand drifting toward his pistol. Mitaka raised his gun and pointed it at him.

“Mutiny, captain. You should be familiar with that. Except we leave you here to die.” He pointed his pistol in the air and fired. Silence reigned around them and Mitaka ordered the boys down from the sails, boys who skimmed down and dropped silently next to Ben. 

“Now you all have two choices with the exception of our wonderful captain. You can come with us and head toward shore or stay here and die with Ben Solo. If you come with us, you speak of nothing here tonight and Hux will give you each a sailing bonus,” Mitaka shouted. Ben felt his chest tighten as a few sailors, with apologetic glances, moved toward Mitaka and his crew, a few who were scrambling into the lifeboat. Ben kept his gaze even as his officers surrounded him.

“There is another option,” Cook called. “We fight!” And with that he took aim at Mitaka and fired. 

Taking their cue, the two sides rushed each other, Ben shouting at the young boys, telling them there is another way, pleading with them, trying to only graze them, not murder them. He was entrusted with their care; why were they throwing themselves on his blade foolish foolish babes. One tried to run him through, succeeding in only ripping Ben’s shirt. Ben’s sword pierced the boy’s heart, his mouth whispering forgiveness as the young man gaped like a fish as he slid to the deck.  Ben turned and deftly parried the blow of another one of Hux’s men, his eyes aflame, calling him all sorts of names. Ben remained silent, focusing on parrying the blade before punching the man in the face with his bell guard and kicking him on his way down. He cut his throat before moving on. He wrapped a cage around his heart; he had to survive first, mourn youth later. 

“Keep one alive!” Ben cried. “I need to find out what Hux’s game is!” He caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned to see Mitaka crawling toward a barrel. Grimly he moved forward, ducking flying fists, the screams of his men twisting in his heart. Mitaka was smiling, his teeth coated in blood. Ben frowned until he saw the flint in Mitaka’s hand. Yelling he rushed forward but Mitaka tossed the flame onto the gunpowder and in a moment, the fireball burst, catching Ben on his side. He fell back, crying in agony as the flames licked at the side of his face. 

“Too late, foolish boy!” screamed another man, swinging down with his dagger. Blindly Ben pushed at it, feeling the knife cut through his arm and slice through his cheek. Bellowing, Ben kicked out, catching his assailant in the chin. Scrabbling for his sword, he aimed upward and caught the man on the ribs, surprise on his features. Ben jerked his sword out as he watched the mizzenmast start to crack, the sails aflame, smoke covering the deck. 

“To the boats!” he cried, stumbling to his feet. He was immediately knocked down again by Kaplan and groaned as Kaplan dug a hook into his sides. 

“You go down with the ship, captain,” Karlan bared his teeth in triumph. Ben cried out, struggling to pull the hook from his side as Kaplan tied the rope to the mast and kicked Ben’s sword away before fleeing to the boats. Ben watched as his men flailed about, many dead or dying on the deck, some choking as they tried to push the lifeboat off the rails, skipping the pulleys altogether. Grateful for his father teaching him to always carry a little extra, Ben reached forward and pulled the dirk from his boot, cutting away at the rope, trying to breath shallowly, light headed. 

“It’s gonna blow!” he heard someone shout. Ben began crawling toward the rail, keeping his head low to avoid most of the smoke, the flames licking at the sides of the poop deck, headed straight for a pile of barrels. He pulled himself up and was focusing on swinging his leg over when the flames reached the barrels and then his vision went white, a loud crack ringing in his ears. Ben found himself flying through the air before his body slapped the water, fingers of pain gripping his body. He was floating down, down, down, comforted by the soft blue light before he found himself rudely jerked forward and he was spluttering, hauling air in. 

“Not yet captain,” cook grunted as he pulled Ben overboard. Ben collapsed against the seats, his face searing with pain, blood staining his chest. His mind was racing, his heart was protesting and all he could think about was if Rey was okay. He slowly blinked away the water from his eyes and sat up, taking stock of the situation. He couldn’t worry about Rey; she was clever, sensible, brave. And his mother was with her. She and his son would be safe, he prayed. They had to be. He looked at the men in the boat, staring at him with dazed and bloodied faces, at his ship slowly sinking into the sea. Cook had taken the boat with provisions but with just enough for a few men, not the dozen staring at him. He and Cook shared a grim look. Unless the wind favored them, they were not going to make it. 

“Alright, men, let’s get the sail up and head due east. We are east of Virginia and with a good wind, we should make good time,” Ben kept his voice cool and even. One of the men began to assemble the short mast while Ben tended his wounds. 

But fortune did not favor them. The winds were dead and soon three men had died of their injuries. 

They debated whether to toss them overboard or save them for food. Ben made the decision to bury them at sea; there were more than enough men to feed one another should the need arise. They lay in the sun, weakly fishing, gasping for water. His face was swollen, pus pouring out and he began to envision Rey sitting next to him, laughing. He thought they were under the black walnut tree and he was explaining again that the farm was the treasure and she was giggling, bending over to kiss him, his hand on her growing belly. His son, he thought weakly, at least I will have a son to watch over her.  

He belatedly realized they had spent more than two weeks aimlessly floating. Cook had taken command; Ben was too delirious and they all expected him to die. In an act of madness, one man had taken his pistol and fired it into his head. One less mouth to feed, Ben idly thought before slipping into unconsciousness. He was mumbling, chanting Rey endlessly, a prayer for his salvation. Or for hers. Hux wanted the treasure; Ben knew where it was. When Hux had come over after Han’s death and disappeared, Ben had thought it was to screw a maid he had found comely; Hux never knew how to keep it in his pants. Now he thought it was to see if he could find the map and he must have thought he did. 

But there was no map. The treasure only existed as a tale told by Han Solo to his son. Of an ancient Aztec horde, stolen by Cortez and whisked away to an island in the Caribe. The coordinates, a riddle that Ben knew since childhood. 

A storm battered their little curricle. More men died. Ben floated in and out of life, hanging by a thread when the Rachel found them and dragged him aboard. He had no sense of time, only rum and water shoved down his lips, his fever raging. 

_ Si se le quiebra la fiebre, vivirá. Pero si no..... _

_ ¿Tendrá pleno uso de sus piernas? _

_ Tendrá que aprender a caminar de nuevo _

Soft voices speaking above him and Ben blinked open his eyes to see a cool white ceiling. He no longer felt the gentle rocking of the boat. He must be on land. He looked over to see a nurse bending next to him, with soft brown skin and doe-like eyes.

“Where am I?” he croaked, his own voice startling him. She stared at him and shook her head, replying quickly in Spanish. He sighed and slumped in his bed; at the very least, he had an answer. Cuba or Puerto Rico. 

Ben spent weeks recovering in Havana. The blast on the boat had torn away the muscles at his legs and the fever all but killed him. A doctor who spoke English told him he would need to learn to walk again, would face spasms of pain for the rest of his life, assuming he could learn to walk again. He spent months struggling, learning to stay upright. He had noticed the right side of his face was no longer as responsive and they had given him a mirror. He had cried when he first saw his visage, had slammed the mirror down. The scar tissue was thick and knotted on his chin, a thin red gash from his left eye over his nose until the worst of it was his mottled red cheek bleeding into his jaw. His smiles were crooked, his right eyebrow permanently semi cocked as if mocking him. 

He was given to tempers now, to nightmares that sent him screaming out of the bed. Fumblingly, haltingly, he learned Spanish as the nurses guided him through his convalescence. He wondered about Rey but as he lay in his bed, tracing Hux’s plots, he knew letting her know that Ben Solo was alive would endanger her. 

The first assassin came when they finally let him into the garden, a nurse and a cane by his side. He sat down after taking his first real turn around the verdant and cool courtyard when a man walked up, a newspaper tucked in his arm. The man’s hand darted out and Ben seized the wrist, the knife clattering to the ground. Viciously he twisted and the man screamed as Ben broke his wrist, taking his cane and shoving it hard into his throat. He began to beat at him until the guards appeared and pulled him apart. He was shouting at him, declaring his vengeance on Hux. 

The police told him that there was a bounty on Ben Solo. More would come. 

The doctor declared that Ben needed to finish his convalescence elsewhere, with a cousin in Jamaica. 

“Ben Solo is dead,” he intoned blankly.

“What shall your name be then?” the doctor asked, looking at him over the rim of his glasses. Ben remembered tales of the Knights of Ren, stories his father told him, of a religious order that meted out justice as they saw fit. The head knight was named Kylo of Turin. 

“Kylo Ren,” he whispered. “I am now Kylo Ren, husband to no woman, son to no mother. Friend to Ben Solo, murdered by a man he called mate. And I will have my revenge.” He kept his voice low as he made his vow. The doctor just snorted and recommended increasing the pain medication. 

Kylo took another deep swallow of the scotch and grimaced as the pain lanced through his leg. He had ridden too hard, done too much. Even now he was pained with it although he had spent over a year learning to put his full weight on it, to fight with it. 

“This is not how I would take my nightcap,” Finn shook his head as he surveyed the room. Kylo shrugged. 

“You were right, Finn. He did go after her.” Finn’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Kylo could sense the anger vibrating from the smaller man. 

“Is she alright?” Kylo snorted and tipped his head back, pouting the last of the scotch in his mouth. 

“She’s alive but damaged.” He stood up and smashed the empty bottle into the fireplace. The fire flared briefly, drenching him in orange light, the flames catching the reprisal in his eyes. “We are upping the time table. I will meet with Hux tomorrow and make the offer.”

“You won’t kill him outright for this?” 

“No, no I want him to suffer. But I’m going to court Rey. He won’t hurt her if we let the town know.  They enjoy a good rivalry.” Finn was still but Kylo knew the younger man’s mind was racing. 

“Again, why not just kill him? It’s an easier solution,” Finn’s voice was low, reasonable, coaxing. 

“Because I want him to experience pain!” Kylo snarled, his face twisting into something dark and furious. Finn took a step back before nodding. He left the room and Kylo stared at the doorway, breathing hard. A moment later, Finn appeared, a small bag in his hand. He dropped it on the end table. 

“Striped candy from the new shop. Apparently all the children love it. Win the child to woo back your wife,” Finn ordered, his voice cold. “And keep it in your pants.”

“She’s  _ my _ wife, Finn!” Kylo gnashed his teeth but Finn remained firm. Finn was reminded of seeing a lion at the circus, the way Kylo paced the room, the violence curled in him, the need to hunt clawing to escape.  

“No, she’s Ben Solo’s wife. He’s dead. She could be Kylo Ren’s wife but you can’t just take her and drag her to bed. You need to convince her of your sincerity. And if you, for whatever reason do take her to bed, take precautions. I’ve ordered a few French letters; I’ll leave them upstairs.”

“You can’t be serious.” Kylo stared at him, incredulous, a little embarrassed. He wondered if his obvious affection for her had been seen by others at dinner. Finn shook his head, exasperated. 

“Kylo, you wax poetic about this girl all the time. And now she’s here and you could barely keep your hands off her at Hux’s ball and then tonight, escorting her to the table, coming to her defense? Spying on her during the afternoon? And you smell like sex.” His voice was flat, an edge of anger at the end. Finn pressed his lips together tightly as Kylo opened his mouth to protest. 

“Don’t lie to me. We are too close for that now.” Kylo closed his mouth and hung his head. He could not regret any of those actions, especially not the way Rey had lain against him, how hard she had sobbed. She had not released tears in front of anyone, he knew instinctively. She trusted Kylo; he wondered if she knew why and imagined she saw Ben in him. He needed to guard himself around her; his secret couldn't be revealed just yet. 

“Win her back. Make her remember love. Give her protection from Hux. I will send a telegram to New York and tell Alfred and Thomas to come up here, that the timetable has changed.” He stepped forward and lay a hand on Kylo’s arm. Kylo jerked back and shrugged away the comfort. 

“You should have seen her, Finn. Her mouth was split open. It looked like he tried to strangle her.”

Finn said nothing, letting the horror in his eyes show, his fists opening and clenching at his sides. He struggled to contain himself and Kylo closed his eyes, trying to will the image from his mind. He had to stay focused. 

“Will you see Snoke tomorrow?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Do we have what we need to ensure the success of that meeting?”

“I can have it ready for you by morning.” Kylo nodded, his face grim. 

“Then it’s settled. I will visit Snoke tomorrow and Hux. You  get the other two down here and meet with Poe Dameron, see if we can’t appear to be playing both sides.” 

“And then spend some time with Rey.” Kylo began to protest and Finn held up his hand. “One, it keeps her safe. Two, it allows you to court her. Three, it will worry Hux who will focus his attentions elsewhere, perhaps convince him that strangling isn’t actually the way to a woman’s heart.”

“Well, not Rey’s but maybe some women,” Kylo replied dryly. Finn shook his head tiredly.

  
“You are impossible,” he muttered before bidding him a good night, trudging up to his room. He glanced over his shoulder to see Kylo staring at the fire, his face frozen and lost. Finn hoped to end their game soon so that his friend could finally find some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French letters were an euphemism for condoms. And yes, they did exist although early condoms were made out of sheep intestine or linen. Not exactly fail proof. Rubber condoms came in the mid century and were often used for the protection of men from STIs rather than for the prevention of pregnancy. These rubber condoms (used from the patent by Goodyear, yes, the tire guy) were made to be re-used. How environmentally conscious. They were often riddled with holes, could rip, and had to be used with a lubricant, some of which were acidic and ate away at the rubber. 
> 
> Women's birth control was different. Many women relied on douching in the 19th century, mixtures of herbs in teas (mostly as an abortifacient) or rubber caps, sponges soaked in vinegar, placed inside of the vagina, or counting the days in their cycle. Douching was an elaborate affair and if you are interested, google 19th century douche machines. Interesting. 
> 
> 19th century medicine was rough, cruel, but far better than earlier medicine. Less a reliance on bloodletting. Ren's scar would be far more horrific than we imagine it to be in a galaxy far far away and in this case, as he was dying out to sea, his skin was healing on its own. His slightly deformed face allows him to hide his identity. He probably only lived through sheer stubbornness, to be honest.


	11. Territorial Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren approaches Hux with offers and warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much plot  
> Plotty plot plot   
> Thank you all for your kind words. I cannot believe how much attention this crazy little thing has gotten. You are all far too generous and I am undeserving of your kindness. I wish you all the very best and can only hope I can continue to provide enjoyment. Pleasure, even.

Aldous Hux marched into First Order bank, a pleased look on his face. The cool caress of sickly June sea air did not affect him; his cheek ached, throbbed and he relished the memory of Rey’s slap, the anguish in her eyes. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he lightly skipped up the steps, revealing in the taste of her. Perhaps Ben Solo was not as stupid as he thought when he took Rey as his wife. Hux had always imagined his friend had married her to appease his mother, to give legitimacy to her little charity case, but now he found himself wondering if Ben had savored the little chit before he had married her. He certainly would have; he currently had plans to. 

Hux slid to a halt, spying a tall dark form hulking by his office door. Cautiously he stepped lightly down the hall and the figure turned. Kylo Ren’s face broke into a welcoming smile when he saw Hux. 

“Good morning!” he called, his voice cheerful. Hux reached out and shook his hand, nodding curtly at his secretary. 

“Good morning, Ren. How may I be of service to you?” The timbre of his voice was even, inviting even, as he gestured into his office. 

“Oh, no, Hux, it’s how I may be of service to you. May we speak privately?” Ren seemed excited, less composed than usual. 

“Coffee?” Hux dispensed with pleasantries before taking a seat behind his large gleaming desk. Ren shook his head and closed the door quietly behind him. When he turned around, the unrest was gone from his face; he was composed, grave even. Hux sniffed and carefully arranged the pens in front of him while he waited.  

“I want a meeting with Mr. Snoke. I am prepared to make First Order a sizeable investment but I want some assurances first and I want them from Snoke,” Ren’s voice was even, pleasant but Hux could tell a demand when he heard it. He huffed and drew himself up.

“Snoke does not meet when asked. He calls the meeting. And, may I remind you when we met with him a few weeks ago, he said all transactions were to go through me,” Hux said, his voice dangerously sharp. He always failed at ensuring irritation didn’t leak out of his voice. Ren only shook his head before reaching into his pocket and tossing a black velvet bag at Hux. Annoyed, Hux jerked the strings open and his eyes widened. He dug in eagerly to pluck out a goose egg sized diamond. 

“This is the type of investment I offer, Mr. Hux. Tangible wealth that can be converted into coin or made into family heirlooms, not scraps of paper that fade with age.” Ren was speaking, low, intoxicating, Hux’s eyes riveted on the diamond that filled his palm. “I know of a jeweler in Boston who can make that a pendant any wife could be proud of.” Here, he was all arrogance coupled with pride but Hux found himself hardly caring, the diamond winking in the sun drenched room, the light watery as he held the diamond up to a lamp, squinting close. Each facet was perfectly cut, the stone unwaveringly clear. Kylo hid a smile before making his move. This was the wealth of which he dreamed, lusted even. Hux was no stranger to lust and he understood it as it raced through his veins this very moment. He visibly struggled to lay the diamond carefully back on the bag, to stop stroking it with worshipful fingers. Ren had continued talking: 

“In fact, I can reach out to Signor LaRocca if you would like to inquire about the jewels. I have sent to him for a ring and can include your request in the letter.”

“A ring for whom?” Hux asked, his voice distant. 

“Rey Solo. She’s quite fascinating isn’t she? A woman like that deserves to have everything of the finest order.” As he spoke Hux slowly rose from his chair, his eyes livid, his pale skin flushing scarlet. 

“Now look here, Ren. She’s my fiancee!” Hux struggled to keep his voice reasonable. Kylo laughed dryly. 

“Is she? She practically melted in my arms when I was dancing with her. Yet, I don’t see her dance with you. She’s agreed to accompany me to the theater next week, even allowed me to purchase a gown for her.  I’ve been here what a month?” He pauses, his fingers against his jaw, considering. Hux bites back a snarl, a rising possessiveness. “ Yes, a month and I’ve yet to see you out to even dine with her. Clearly she’s a woman who keeps her interests open.” 

Hux begins to protest and Kylo shakes his head, as if thinking. “Unless, of course, you think she is considering me only because someone wealthier came along. As a friend of mine, I beg you to tell me before I make a foolish decision.” Hux glared and Kylo stared back, eyes wide, the picture of innocent interest. He had him cornered. If Hux were to agree that Rey coveted only wealth, Kylo could name him a cad and call the engagement false. He had forced his former friend speak fondly of Rey. 

“No,” Hux began, sullen. “Mrs Solo is far too earthy to be easily distracted by things like money and fine dresses.” Kylo solemnly nodded.  

“Yes, but I imagine the bigger impediment would be Ben Solo. She seems quite devoted to a ghost.” His words were conspiratorial; give Hux a little bit of encouragement, let him feel that Ren was still an ally. Kylo understood hatred bound people together more strongly than blood. 

“He’s not even as she remembers him,” Hux jumped in, eagerly seizing the turn in conversation, his nose wrinkling. “Ben Solo was a coward and a terrible sailor. He lost a ship with all hands on board on a simple route to Cuba in summer. Should have been a quick trip yet his incompetence doomed more than two dozen souls.”

“Pitiful, really, that she should be so enamored of him,” Kylo murmured, twirling the cane in his hands. “But then again, how are women won over?” He gave Hux a knowing wink, watching Hux’s neck turn red, the vein bulging at the side. Kylo needed to remember to scale it back; a heart attack was too good for the likes of Hux. “Well, let the best man win then. Whoever can get her to forget Ben Solo will clearly win her hand.”

“Hear now, Ren,” Hux began, moving rapidly from around the desk to approach the broad man. “You can’t just waltz in here and demand an audience with Snoke and then tell me you are poaching my fiancee. It’s not how things are done.” 

Kylo drew himself up, using his inch difference to look down his nose at the red headed man. Hux, to his credit, did not flinch and Kylo bared his teeth at him in imitation of a smile. 

“If you want First Order to continue on, to meet its goals as Snoke laid out, you will let me court Rey. Otherwise, I will take all my considerable expertise and wealth to Resistance bank.” 

“I don’t respond well to threats.”Cold, an attack dog restrained only by a frayed leash. This is the Hux that Kylo looked forward to meeting on the field. He kept his features arranged in boredom, his voice droll. 

“Perhaps Snoke will see it differently than you. After all, he is a man who loves good sport does he not?” Kylo circled Hux who followed every step, his lips tight, his blue eyes pale with fury. He leaned forward to whisper into Hux’s ear. “I visited Mrs Solo this morning, Hux, and I saw the bruises. You escorted her home last night. How could you let a man mug her like that? Careless, I should think.” He heard Hux swallow, saw panic leach into his eyes.

“Bruises? What bruises?” Hux stammered, his voice high. Kylo suppressed a chuckle. 

“Apparently, she was attacked in her home last night. The thieves took nothing of value but they harmed her greatly. She is quite far out of town which, I suppose, explains how it happened,” Kylo stared out the window as he mused, hardly daring to let Hux see his face. 

“I, I had no idea. I must attend to her at once,” Hux started toward his desk and Kylo waved his hand lordly as he said:

“No worries,there, friend. I tended to her wounds myself. I also sent for Mrs. Organa-Solo. Perhaps it would be wise for you to post a guard?” Hux blanched at Kylo’s words, at the thought of his hands on Rey’s body. Kylo grimaced, could only imagine Rey shouting that it was her own body, damnit; she had snapped those words at him the night of their wedding and had gently teased him about it up to the day he had left her. 

“I thank you for your courtesy,” Hux ground out. Kylo shot him an easy grin. 

“Any time, dear friend. Now, the meeting with Snoke?”

“It will be arranged.” Hux looked as if he would rather bite off his own arm. Kylo bowed, his ebony locks curtaining his eyes. He carelessly swept his hair back and Hux narrowed his eyes. 

“I look forward to our mutual success as business partners. And to our competition to see who will win Mrs. Solo.” Kylo strode toward the door, stopping as he saluted Hux with his cane. “Let the best man win!” 

Hux stood there silently, a storm brewing within him. He pulled his shirt down and swallowed thickly. If Rey had told truth, he could lose stature in town. The law didn’t forbid a man beating his wife but the town certainly didn’t need to do business with that man. Hux forced himself to exhale as he realized how close a blade he was walking. Next time, he would only touch her where it would not show. If there was a next time. With the urbane Kylo Ren as a rival, he would need to convince Rey that he could provide for her happiness. 

This was not according to his plans. 

Clearing his throat, Hux rang a bell and his secretary smartly stepped into the room. 

“Mr. Smith, please send an urgent message to Snoke that Mr. Ren would like to meet with him. And, perhaps, arrange for a token of my affection to be sent to Mrs. Solo?” The secretary nodded briefly before pausing. 

“You forbade flowers before, Mr. Hux,” he began. 

“I know!” snapped Hux before huffing. He closed his eyes and tried to find the peace he felt in the morning. A beat later, the secretary shuffling awkwardly at the door, Hux opened his eyes and icily stated: “Forgive me. Mrs. Solo prefers items of a more practical nature.”

“Perhaps a leather mending tool set?,” Smith offered brightly. “She has a mule and fixing bridles can be costly.” 

“Yes, yes, of course. And add something ridiculous to it. Like chocolates from the patisserie, for the little girl. Children adore chocolate.” 

With a quick gesture of acceptance, Smith left the room and Hux leaned back into his rich leather chair and let out the snarl in his chest. One more complication in his path to the Solo treasure. He knew that Han Solo, trashy Han Solo who had somehow convinced Leia Organa of the Boston Organas to marry him,  and it had to be because he uncovered the lost treasure of Cortes. He was sure of it when Han came whistling into the bank, cheerfully told Hux he was going to shut him down before slapping a doubloon on the table. Hux opened a drawer to see the doubloon gleaming faintly in the light. 

Hux began to believe the treasure was hidden somewhere on Rey’s land and launched his campaign with the flimsy excuse that Ben Solo had failed to deliver on one last request for Snoke. Truth to be told, Snoke didn’t care. His heart lie in dominance and money and Kylo Ren was offering it in jewels, which would be more than enough to satisfy the doddering idiot. Marrying Rey Solo was preferable to tearing up the land with a shovel; Hux privately believed Ben had told Rey and she was holding out. He believed that by wooing her she would somehow let loose all of her secrets. 

He never suspected that he might find her beguiling.

He found himself wanting to tame the wild brown thing, to see if a real woman could be made out of the orphan who wore trousers and continued to wear the ring of a dead man. The way she proudly carried herself, her spine erect, her head held high. He abhorred the fact that he wanted nothing more than to have her beneath him, he revealed in the thought that he would be the one to teach her in the ways in how a husband should instruct a wife. He doubted Ben would have the guts to do so. He remembered seeing them strolling down the street together, hands linked, Ben whispering in her ear, Rey bursting into laughter, a warm glow to her cheeks.  She had been far too familiar with him when she had pulled him down and kissed the corner of his mouth. The product of a weak-willed husband. Hux remembered the flare of jealousy all too clearly; he remembered the disgust at the openness of this woman.  

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if to rid himself of these conflicts. He had a duty--he had to find the treasure. But first he needed more information about Kylo Ren. Like everyone else, he had believed what this man had said when he first came to town. But Hux didn’t rise to power trusting everything he heard. Lies funded his economy, were one of his own tools. He leaned forward to ring the bell again and Smith ran back into the room.

“Sir?”

“Get me Mr. Watson.”

“The investigator?” Smith asked, clearly confused. Hux sighed.

“Yes, him!” he barked. “And I want him here yesterday!” Smith saluted and turned to leave before pausing. 

“Oh yes and sir? I received a telegram from a Mr. Albert Jones and Mr. Thomas Winchester. They are interested in working with First Order as investors.”

“Bring me the telegram,” Hux commanded. Smith hurried over, dropping the note on the desk. He  gave the door a fast tug as he all but ran from the room. Hux rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the papers in front of him, his glance occasionally straying to the diamond egg, glittering at the edge of his desk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next time we see Rey and Ben's wedding! Oh, how sweet! Time for a little fluff before murder and mayhem. My favorites.


	12. Pain and Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey remembers her wedding night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all that are reading, kudo-ing, and commenting. Yes, kudoing is now a word.  
> I'm super sorry for the length and I can't write sex so please bear with me. 
> 
> A note prior to provide context: 19th century middle and upper-middleclass woman would not have been wholly ignorant of sex but the mechanics of it, yes. They knew that it happened but that was about it (and even then, details were sketch). Women were not even permitted to know the names of their lady bits and it was considered shocking when one doctor in the 1900s suggested maybe women would have a better time of it if they actually knew what was between their legs. Men were encouraged to take it slow and I remember back in the ole grad school days often wondering why Victorian women would write in their journals that consummation took place days after the ceremony. One popular marriage book for young couples suggested that if the man did not go slow, the wife would be so terrorized that she would flee. Now, whether or not all men were told that, I don't know---much of our information comes from admittedly wealthier people so it's skewed to a certain point of view.

Rey luxuriously lounged in bed, stretching her arms overhead, her chesnut hair a halo around her. She grimaced at the slight jab in her ribs before ghosting her fingers over her jaw and neck. She felt swollen and bruised, her skin stained with the smell of arnica and bitter yarrow. Rey conceded that the swelling was less than it should have been and reflected how skillfully Kylo Ren had tended to her.

She kicked the quilts back and sprawled in the bed, indulging in the raw feeling between her legs. Kylo had been more than thorough in his ministrations and she felt graceful, powerful, a deity pleased by her acolytes. It had been years since she had felt so languid, so liberal with her body. How eagerly she had let Kylo insinuate himself into her bed, into her lap, she mused. She had forgotten how devoted mouths could be on bodies, how they can coax such secrets from her. She wondered how his weight would feel on her, how secure she would feel then. She knew she had all the control last night and admitted she only let it get so far due to some combination of longing and lust and a haunting familiarity about him, about the way he was constantly running his hand through his hair. How he would suck on his bottom lip when thinking fiercely.

Rey frowned slightly and craned her neck to look out the window, her room lit  by the rising sun peeking through the simple linen curtains, her body clad in a simple shift warmed by the golden light. Her wedding ring caught her gaze and Rey brought her hand in front of her face, examining the simple silver band, free of any adornment. She twisted it around her finger and allowed herself to fall into her memories.

* * *

 

Rey had been both terrified and elated the day of her wedding. Leia had taken her aside for one last look and hopelessly tried to assuage any fears Rey had about her wedding night--Rey had arched an eyebrow and explained she had seen more than her fair share when she worked at the Inn. Leia had barked a short laugh before saying it was often different the first night.

“I’m only worried about this pain. Will….will he hurt me deliberately?,” she asked, her eyes wide. Leia reached out and pinched her in the arm, hard, and Rey yelped.

“That probably felt worse than what tonight will feel,” she said unapologetically. Rey rubbed her arm and shot her a petulant look. “But don’t let him direct you too much. You have just as many rights in the bedroom as he does. You don’t need to consummate it tonight.,” Leia added sharply as she fussed over Rey’s dress. Rey frowned.

“I’m still nervous,” she confessed. Leia smiled at her, sympathy in her eyes, dark and vibrant like her son’s.

“The first time a man lies with a woman, it will hurt. Ben is not a brute--at least, I don’t think his father ever encouraged that. Ask him to be gentle; you’ll be fine,” Leia reassured her, making small circles on Rey’s back, a soothing gesture for a child.

The wedding flew by, a simple ceremony at the church. Ben had wrapped his hands around Rey’s and had squeezed them tenderly while the priest droned on. She was reassured by the fact that they were as clammy as hers. Rey found herself sneaking a peek at him, tall and muscular with short hair that barely covered his ears, his face mapped by freckles, his long lashes sweeping against his cheeks. Her breath had caught in her throat. She had occasional glimpses of him at the Organa-Solo house between his journeys; more used to Leia complaining or praising him. He had always been polite and courteous with her, even when she laughed at his ears one day when he came home with his hair cropped too close to his head. She had become used to his presence so much so that he had simply blended into the background while she pursued a future as something else. Wife was too distant a thought; lover too vulgar.

When he had proposed, she had thought it was a joke and had pointedly told him it was not a fair to play such a cruel game. He had persisted however, even though she denied him twice. The third time he had dropped on his knees and sighed, admitting he wanted her, only her, that he was fascinated by her cleverness, kindness, determination--apologizing for only praising her beauty before but, he reminded her, he’s been around the world, been to countries remote and exotic, and that by far she was the most stunning woman he had seen and would she please end his suffering by marrying him and no Leia wasn’t pressuring him into choosing her, she would much rather prefer Rey finish her studies first, this was him, only him and by the stars, he wanted only her. Rey had blushed, her eyes brimming with tears, as she gave her consent wordlessly, her bottom lip trembling. He had embraced her awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with their height difference. Han and Leia gave their blessing, of course, Han gazing at his son with pride written on his features, Leia extracting a promise from Ben not to prevent her from exploring her own interests.  

Their courtship had lasted only a few weeks before the devastating news that the Falcon had sunk at sea with all souls lost. Leia had shut herself into her rooms, taking neither food nor drink for days until finally she emerged, shrunken, her mouth mournful, her eyes forbidding and lost. Her one hope now, she told Rey, was for a flock of grandchildren and ordered Ben to set a date. Rey had smiled benevolently but inside her guts twisted--she hadn’t considered the future too much beyond their wedding ceremony and that was so not her that it frightened her. Ben was muddling her head with afternoon teas and quiet chats in the library, his knees gently touching hers, his lips grazing her knuckles when he left her, his shoulders straying too close to hers.

Abandoned as a child, she could not even imagine how to be a mother; her relationship with Leia was always more like a doting aunt with a favored niece. Coupled with the thought of pregnancy, she felt dread rooting her to the spot, her hands squeezing her apron tightly until Ben had laid a hand on her back, bent low,and murmured into her ear not to worry, that he would always be with her, that he would keep her safe. She had shyly looked up at him and he had kissed her for the first time, hesitantly, pulling away and hastily exiting the room. Rey lay her fingers against her lips, wondering if she had done it wrong. She spent the next night kissing her hand while she lay in bed, looking through the book on martial bliss that Leia had left her. She found it insipid and disheartening; men were brutes, it patiently told her, and she should neither appear to be too wanting or too timid. She didn’t want her husband to desire her overmuch or she would bore him quickly.

Rey had snorted and tossed the book to the side; she had seen men in the inn, their appetites for wine and women never ceasing. She had more than once witnessed coupling on the inn floors, against the walls, in the stables. She had only worried when the book mentioned pain and she tried to reconcile that with the the thrill that had run through her body when his lips met hers but couldn’t; how could that tentative touch bring pain? Rey began to find herself daydreaming about his soft lips, coming back to the present with a quick look about, embarrassment staining her cheeks.

After the ceremony, after the late breakfast with friends and family, Ben had lifted her into a carriage and driven them out of town, until they arrived at a cottage, tucked away behind a hill, looking down onto D’Qar and the sea. He proudly showed her the adjacent farm, pointing out the black walnut tree and the orchard, plucking an apple from one branch before holding it out to her. He had held it in his hands, his eyes darkening as she bit into the flesh, her tongue darting out to lick the juice off the fruit.

The home was small, cozy, whitewashed, with a wrap around porch, green shutters, a slightly crooked chimney that he vowed to fix. The afternoon heat beat down on them and Rey could feel her stomach fluttering, laying her hands on her belly as she caught Ben evaluating her. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, constantly lifting toward her before tucking them behind his back. She ducked her head, used to men leering at her, not this gentle insistent gaze. Inside the house, he showed her the furnishings he had selected, inquiring if they met with her approval. Rey had swallowed, a lump in her throat. She turned to Ben, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“I believe Mrs Organa ordered some food to be brought here?” she asked haltingly. “I can prepare our dinner.” She was delaying the inevitable; she was breathing hard, she could feel his eyes raking her body, her stomach tight. Logically, she knew the book had encouraged men to draw out the conclusion to a wedding ceremony, but she wanted it over now, she was too curious, too anxious to feel Ben’s heat against her again.

Ben just nodded solemnly and discarded his jacket, rolling up his sleeves. She sensed he was mentally preparing himself and she wondered if he thought she would shirk away, run screaming into the night. The tension was too much for her and impulsively she reached up and pulled him down to press her lips against his. His arms snaked around her and his hand spread across her back and she was acutely aware of heat, of his tongue licking the bottom of her lip.

They collapsed on the couch, Ben situating her on top, his hand cupping her neck, his mouth encouraging hers to open. Hesitantly she did and his tongue slipped in to taste her and she felt herself go lightheaded, her grasp on reality short out; this must be what drives people to insanity, she thinks, all of this longing. It seems like forever that they lay entangled learning each other’s mouths before Ben pulls them apart with an awkward smile. Perhaps he’s not ready, she thinks.

Their dinner was quiet and she was nervous, picking at her food. Confusion raced through her, mingled with lust--her breasts felt heavy, her lips swollen. As she fumbled with a piece of apple cake, Ben reached across the table and picked up her hand, his thumb drawing lazy circles inside her wrist.

“Take your hair down, Rey,” he stated quietly. She drew in a shaky breath and reached up, pulling out the flowers and pins in the elaborate braids. Ben leaned back and watched, his eyes never leaving her face. She felt expansive, a temptress, not a wife, as she curtained her hair in front of her face, glancing at Ben through the side of her eyes. She knew appreciation and she knew lust but she couldn’t name the look on his face as he watched her arrange her hair. He leaned forward and began running his fingers through it, his breath warm on her face. She rested against him, her face on his chest, hearing the way his heart seemed to stutter.

Rey slipped into their room to put on the silk and lace nightgown, the collar wide and square, held together by a thin ribbon. Her hands were shaking and she licked her dry lips.

“Come here, Rey,” she heard Ben call. Rey padded into the living room to discover Ben had lit a fire and filled a bathtub in the living room, situated to soak up the warmth from the flames. She could see the steam curling off the water.  “Let me bathe you.” His voice was plaintive, his expression unreadable.

“It is unseemly--”she began before Ben waved his hand, cutting her off.

“I don’t care for whatever book Mother had you read before this night, whatever rules you’ve supposedly read about. It’s just us now. We make our own rules,” his voice imperious, suspiciously high. Rey’s heart stuttered, threatening to burst from her chest, and she could only nod. She wondered if she should turn to disrobe but decided to feel brave. She walked toward him, tentatively, and he placed his hand around at her hip, guiding her to him. “It will relax you. I’m not some beast who is going to just ravage you,” his lips tickled her ears. Rey let out a strangled laugh.

“I almost wish you would.” He placed his finger under her chin and tipped her face up.

“We go at the pace you choose, Rey. I won’t have my wife be terrified of me. I’ve seen too often how those marriages turn out.”

“Been a part of many before me?” she joked lightly and he chuckled.

“I’ve seen a many things,” he began, before licking his lips and Rey felt her body tighten. “Now I want to see you.” She felt her face turn red, her stomach clench. Ben’s hands traveled up her body until he reached out and plucked at the strings of her gown, guiding it down her shoulders, watching it crumple to the floor. She felt his eyes travel up her body and she exhaled roughly. He said nothing only held her hand as she stepped into the tub. He had sprinkled rose petals into the water and she basked in the thoughtfulness of it, letting out a sigh of contentment as the warm water embraced her body. She leaned back, closing her eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Ben’s face. He was silent and she wondered if her body disappointed him before irritation swept her.

“It’s my body,” she whispered more to herself than to him.

“Legally now it’s mine,” he was amused and she opened her eyes to see him kneeling next to the tub. Rey stuck her tongue out at him.

“No, I’m only letting you borrow it. After all, didn’t you say we make our own rules?” she retorted and Ben smothered a snicker. She watched him pick up a sponge and began to lather it with soap, butterflies twisting in her belly.  She had been craving his hands on her all day, lingering over the taste from the afternoon but now, bare before him, she felt a tremor run through her. It was fear, it was anticipation, it was a hunger in her.

He dipped his hands in the water, and gently began to wash her feet, taking care to rub her arches, massage her calves, and she found herself unwinding,  her body relaxing, until her shivers were from something else, her eyes glued on to his hands as he worked his way up her legs. The room seemed still, loud with her breathing. He was watching her face as the sponge began to work her thighs.

He slid around the tub until he was seated behind her, his cheek pressed against hers, his hand lazily squeezing the sponge across her belly and she swallowed hard. He slid the sponge over her shoulders, his fingers rough against her skin, and she bit her lip. His breath hitch and he dropped the sponge, replacing it with his hands as he soaped her chest, moving between the valley between her breasts. She twisted suddenly so his hand slid to cup her and he responded, squeezing gently. At her soft moan, he devoted his ministrations there, circling her pert nipples, rolling them between his fingers, giving her a slight pinch. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, let her head loll back onto his shoulder. She was feverish and his breath was on her ear, his mouth was sucking at her neck and she was gasping. She was full of yearning, full of sin, and full to the brim with it all and did not want it to end.

“We make our own rules, Rey,” he murmured against her mouth. “No sin here, just us.” His hand slid down her body, brushing at the curls at the apex of her thighs. Her mouth went dry as she parted her legs for him and he slowly dragged his fingers against her folds. Heat was building in her and each movement of his fingers brought a thrill running through her body. She was game to follow it, opened her mouth again and he claimed it roughly, and she sensed he was losing control. She cried out as he curled his fingers against her sex, as he began rubbing against her, a bundle of nerves that sent waves of hunger through her, a growing fuzziness in her mind, her breaths coming frantically now. She felt her lower body clench and it was pleasure and she was chanting his name.

“Bed, now,” he growled, half yanking her out of the bath, cupping under her ass to lift her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and found herself against a wall and he was grinding his hips against her and she laughed drunkenly, still riding from her release.  She looked down at his face, his eyes latched onto hers and he was grinning as he pulled her from the wall, half running into the bedroom before dropping her ungainly onto the bed. They were both laughing now until he was almost roughly parting her legs, pulling him to her.

The seriousness of it hit her as he pressed his weight on her and she knew the pain was coming. He was kissing her again, his mouth at her throat, at her collarbone and she was fumbling at his shirt, wildly yanking at his buttons until exasperated, Ben sat up and ripped at it, tossing it on the ground. She took in his broad chest, running her hands up his muscular arms before her mind really registered what she was seeing.

Scars. Running along his rib cage, down his back, echoes of punishments from ships past. Her mouth fell open and Ben hesitated.

“Life of a sailor,” he offered apologetically. She could only stare at him before drawing his head to her chest, her hand slowly skimming the surface of his back. She could feel the ridges and roughness of each scar as she comforted him and, truthfully, herself. Shock had slowed her system and Ben seemed to realize it, content to lay nestled between her breasts. Holding him to her, they both dozed off.  

 

She awoke stiff, a heavy arm across her and she glanced over to see Ben watching her, a half smile on her lips. She blushed; she wasn’t  sure why.

“Are you repulsed?” his voice a whisper. She didn’t know why they were whispering in their own home.

“Never,” she declared, factually, without sentiment. His fingers brushed against her skin, began sliding up to her neck and gathered him to her, his lips seeking her out.

“We’ve unfinished business,” he breathed and Rey was excited, her eyes bright, and she rolled her hips against him experimentally. His breath hitched and she did it again. His response was to claim her mouth, to run his tongue over hers, exploring her, sliding down to lick a nipple and Rey panted as he continued to suck, laving his tongue across her breasts and she was certain he was trying to kiss her stupid, her brain unable to process.

He pulled away and she cried out, the air cool against her body. He was jerking his pants down ungracefully and she sat up to help before they become a complicated tangle of limbs as they rushed to undress him.

“I’m not afraid,” she murmured. He gave a quick jerk of his head to acknowledge  and then he was free and Rey suddenly realized why it might hurt. He was large, swollen, and she inhaled sharply as she wondered how he would fit inside of her.

“We’re going as fast as you want,” he promised, correctly interrupting her widening eyes. But Rey was a curious creature; she reached out hesitantly and Ben held himself very still as she cautiously touched him. As soon as her fingers grazed him, he let out a groan and she looked up to see his head tipped back, his eyes closed. Feeling bold, she wrapped her fingers around the length of him and he hissed. She was surprised at how soft it felt, how firm and grew bold. She wondered what would happen if she kissed him as she began to caress him. There is no fear in knowledge, she reasoned and she leaned forward to flick her tongue against him and found herself pushed back into the bed, Ben’s mouth hot on hers, his fingers between them, circling her clit roughly before plunging his finger into her. Rey cried out, half in pleasure, half in pain.

“I can’t,anymore, Rey, I can’t,” he panted and she grinded her hips against him. He removed his hand and she felt him at her entrance. His eyes met hers and she nodded as he adjusted his weight around her, bracing himself on his arms. She grimaced as he pushed in, felt an intense pinch and suddenly Ben was moving, moving through her pain and she felt full, the pressure delectable and she didn’t understand why she was supposed to be terrorized by this night.  His lips were on her cheeks, he was slow and she felt the heat building again. “Move with me,” he pleaded and she responded, his hands on her hips, guiding her. They found their rhythm and Rey discovered why it was marital bliss, why married women shot sly glances to their husbands, how she felt powerful and lithe and greedy. His mouth had traveled to her breast and their breathing was loud, ragged in the room and her senses were blurring together because she never wanted this end, she was ashamed of her wild cries, she was pleased at how wanton she sounded, her hands were in his thick hair and she dragged his lips back to hers and did not want to let go. They were rough and unsteady now, his hips punishing hers and she was gone as her orgasm hit her. Ben’s breathing grew harder, his body pounding into hers until finally with a muffled cry he fell against her.

 

So this was marriage, Rey lazily thought as her husband rolled off of her. As if hearing her thoughts, Ben gave a short laugh, a shake of his head.

 

“Are you ok?” he asked, kissing her shoulder. Rey came to learn that gesture as one of affection, of desire. She nodded shyly and he reached up to push her sweat damp strands from her hair.

“Can we do that again?” she asked and he laughed.

“Well, I need a bit more recovery time than you, but yes, as often as you want,” he replied, pulling her down to kiss him. “And I hope you want it often.”

* * *

 

Rey blinked back tears and rolled up in bed, watching the curtains drift in the air. She swallowed back a sob and walked over to the bureau, to the waiting pitched and bowl. She was hollow inside; she was used to being hollow inside; she had felt closer to herself last night in years. Their marriage had been forged in that bed, in the long, slow kisses in the orchard, in Ben’s patience with her as she learned what she could demand from him, his annoyance when she pushed too far. He had adored making love to her in the morning, perching her on top of him, the sweat rolling down her back as she slowly rode him, her pleasure building while he suckled her breast, while he whispered how devoted he was to her, how she was his stars, his sun,his moon. The line between desire and love had blurred for her until she wasn’t sure what she felt for him, so much of it was mixed up in the need to physically express it.

It unnerved her.

It made her wonder if she could make something new. She entertained the thought of inviting Kylo Ren into her bed, wondered what it would cost her. She looked down at her wedding ring. Ben Solo wasn’t coming back. Four years was an awful long time to wait. She looked at herself in the mirror, at the bruise gracing her cheek, at her swollen lips, the wine colored circlet on her neck. She remembered how it felt to be under Ben and she licked her lips.

“Ben Solo is dead.”

There, the words aloud, the spell broken. Rey gave her reflection an affirming nod. She pulled the ring off her finger and lay it on the table. “Ben Solo is dead,” this time softer. She needed to hold these words close if she were to take a lover. She craved a companion, in her sitting room, beside her, her body aching with the need to be touched. Kylo had only hastened that recognition. As she gazed in the mirror, she knew she could take him as a lover, that he would not whisper a word of it, that he would be discreet.

 

She needed discreet.

She needed to feel his hands on her again.

She worried she wasn’t making a decision with brain, that it had short circuited last night.

  
“Ben Solo is dead.” Three times and it is truth. Rey didn't hesitate this time, sweeping out of the room to seek out the day, the ring winking in the room’s light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get some, Rey, please.


	13. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren has a conversation with Leia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more melodramatic trash.  
> Thank you to all that read and a double thanks to those who are leaving comments and kudos. They warm my overwrought heart.
> 
> My dismasted love: "Nantucket market! Hoot! But come closer, Starbuck; thou requirest a little lower layer. If money's to be the measurer, man, and the accountants have computed their great counting-house the globe, by girdling it with guineas, one to every three parts of an inch; then, let me tell thee, that my vengeance will fetch a great premium here!"
> 
> "He smites his chest," whispered Stubb, "what's that for? methinks it rings most vast, but hollow."--Moby Dick, The Quarter Deck

Kylo guides his horse up to Rey’s farm; his farm really,  he supposed. He scans for her in the brilliant early afternoon light but the place looks deserted. He frowns as he jumps off his horse, wondering if they were in the fields before a little girl careens around the corner and smacks into his legs. Kylo stumbles back, his hands reaching out to grab the wild thing, all thin limbs and ebony hair and his own eyes staring back at him. Kylo swallows.   
  


“Uh, hi,” he manages and the girl steps back, wary, Rey’s expression written on his features and he knows, he knows, this is his child, this son he always imagined is a daughter, mud up her legs, a cornflower shirt dress with a dirty apron, some sort of unidentifiable smudge under those eyes, those same amber orbs and he doesn't know if he can do this anymore. 

It’s in that moment that he thinks there was maybe two Kylo Rens--one born in a stale hospital bed in Havana, born of pain and hatred and desire to go to war with the world and this Kylo Ren, locked in the gaze of his child, eyes like a mirror, and the possibility of hanging up his sword and coming home to hearth and home. He wonders  when this is over, if she will ever let him tuck her in at night, tell her a story, brush worries off her brow, or if he’s sacrificed more than he ever imagined. 

He closes his eyes and pulls his bitterness around his heart, takes comfort in it. His suffering must have meaning otherwise his weeks in the boat, the weight of the death of his companions, won’t be honored by defeat,  by a coward held captive by a pair of too curious child eyes. 

“Who are you?” she demands. 

“I’m Kylo Ren. I’m here to see your mother,” he says, crouching by her. She gives him a skeptical look. 

“Are you a friend of Hux?” 

“Do I seem like a friend of Hux?” Careful here, unsure of how to respond to this creature, uncertain if Hux bribed her, too. 

“He doesn’t seem like someone with friends so I don’t know,” her bottom lip is sticking out, she’s reasoned herself into a corner and Kylo gives a short laugh. He remembers the candy Finn had tucked into his coat pocket before he left. He hastily pulls it out and offers it up to her, her eyes widening. 

“Is that striped candy?” her voice is hushed; this is something sacred. 

“It sure is,” he replies. She reaches out to snag one from the bag. 

“Not before dinner Astrid,” and Kylo freezes, his muscles locking.  He did not expect to see her here, to endure her scrutiny. He looks up to see his mother frowning down on the pair, disapproval in the lines tightening on her face. “Bribery is a little low don’t you agree?” Kylo flushes and averts his eyes.

“No,” pipes the girl, this Astrid.  Leia claims the bag before Astrid does and tucks it in her pocket. 

“Astrid, go to the pump and wash up,” Leia orders and Astrid slinks away, not before sticking her tongue out at Leia’s back. Kylo swallows a chuckle; she was Rey’s daughter alright. He turns back to Leia who is regarding him seriously. “You here for Rey?” He nods and he stands up, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “She’s out in the fields. She’ll be back soon. You can go looking for her and get lost or make yourself useful.”

He doesn’t know which is the right answer so he chooses the one to please her:“Make myself useful?” Suddenly he’s twelve again and his mother is towering over him and she’s brave and fearless and he would follow her to the battlefields and Ben Solo is back. He doesn’t know how to be brash, daring, urbane Kylo Ren with Leia Organa-Solo; she doesn’t tolerate that kind of behavior. He's fastidiously avoided being alone with her, discovers that he all too easily relinquishes his control to her. 

She beckons him to follow her and he does, craning his neck to observe how the farm has changed since he left.  Leia leads him to a table under an oak tree buttressed up against the side of the house. He notices with dismay the branches brushing up against the roof and knew they would need to be trimmed soon or they would damage his house come winter. 

“Who’s going to cut those down?” he asks without thinking, gesturing toward the branches. Leia stops to follow where he’s pointing before turning and coolly looking at him.

“Are you offering?” Kylo shrugs; he’s no stranger to physical work and it was an excuse to be near Rey. Leia nods, a small smile tugging her lips. “I’ll let Rey know. Bring your friend Finn as well and we may even make you dinner.”

“I’d like that,” he replies feverently. “I heard Mrs. Solo makes excellent cakes. Mrs. Foster said she had Mrs. Solo make her wedding cake.”

“Yes, she’s quite skilled with fruit cakes,” Leia points to the table where piles of green beans and carrots waited to be cleaned and sorted. “If you want to help, we need to snap these beans and put them in this bowl to soak.” She casts a disparaging glance at Kylo’s pale pants, his long mahogany coat and vest and raised an eyebrow. In response, Kylo shucks off his coat and rolls up his sleeves before sitting down and beginning to sort through the dirt covered beans. They work in silence for a few minutes before Kylo felt like he needed to charm her. Charm Leia Organa. He could feel his father’s spirit mocking him and he inhaled deeply. 

“So, Mrs. Organa Solo. I’m finding myself a bit at a lost here. You run a charity and you work a farm. Quite the accomplished woman.”

“We Solo women often are many things at once,” Leia tosses back. “And one thing we aren’t is stupid, Benjamin Anakin Solo.” Kylo freezes, his heart racing, the blood roaring in his ears.

Cautiously, he refutes: “I’m afraid you are confusing me with someone else.” 

“I can always tell when you lie, Ben. Your left eye twitches at the bottom. It’s the worst tell.   Remember the night your dad tried to teach you not to twitch during poker? You lost everything and luckily you just lost to Han,” Leia’s voice is low, dangerous. Kylo flicks his eyes to look at her, sees the tears shimmering in her eyes and swallows.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the ball.”

“That long? There really is no fooling you,” he mutters before looking away. He suspected Leia would have figured it out and sat up straighter, worry stabbing his heart. “Does Rey know?”

“Not yet. Did you sleep with her last night?” He jerks back and cries “mother!” outraged but she plows on. “She took off her wedding ring. I want to know about those bruises. I want to know why you are here as Kylo Ren. You obviously remember your real name.” 

“Ben Solo is dead,” he retorts. “The victim of a murder most awful. ” She shakes her head at his melodrama, at his referral to himself in the third person. 

“You nearly killed Rey, you know that? She spent months on the widow’s walk watching for you, months hoping you would walk in the door. And here you are without so much a how do you do,” Leia snaps back, her eyes watery. She places her hands on the table and Kylo sees how they’ve aged, veins dark and clear through papery skin, callused, a scab between her knuckles. He uneasily moves in his seat while she watches him warily.  They sit quietly, watching one another, the air filled with the sounds of buzzing bees and the answering trills of birds. 

Finally Leia asks, her voice cracking: “Why would someone try to murder you?”

“Dad found the treasure of Cortes,” he answers simply and Leia scoffs. “They believe he passed the location on to me.

“Your foolish father,” she mutters. Kylo sighs and reaches out to capture her hand. He runs a thumb over her scab and she stiffens. 

“It’s true, mom. I found it. That riddle Dad used to sing? Coordinates to the site at Cooper Island in the Caribbean.”

“You’re just as foolish as your father.” She is bitter. In response, Kylo grabs his jacket and fumbles in a pocket, yanking out a black velvet bag. He upends it on the table, sapphires and opals spilling out. Leia gasps, stunned.  

“Not so foolish.” He doesn't sneer when he says it and feels proud of himself. 

She picks an opal up, holding it to the sun, inspects the light glittering within, rolls it around her palm. No exclaiming over jewels for Leia Organa Solo, just cool evaluation. Kylo waits for her to speak and when she does, her voice holds an edge so perilous it is sure to shred him:

“Is that what this is about, Ben? Wealth? Because we never had to worry,”  she is cold, outrage twisting her features into something unrecognizable. 

“It’s not for money!” he snarls back. He’s never been poor, he’s never attached any significance to currency as long as there was food on the table. It was Rey who taught him the value of things, who used to snap at him for being careless with his spending habits. He’s furious that his mother thinks so crassly of him.

“Then what is it, Ben? This was your father’s absurd dream. You decided that you needed to bring something back to earn what? Forgiveness? Credibility? No one believes you sunk that ship due to incompetence,” her voice is growing softer as she speaks, as she tries to reason why her son never learned how to think of others. 

“I don’t care about money,” Kylo slowly enunciates each word, dripping venom. “I want vengeance.” 

Leia shrinks back. Kylo gives her a short version of what happened on the Artemis, of the assassin and rumored bounty hunters, of the confession from one in Havana that they would never stop coming, the horror that Hux might use Rey as ammunition, that Ben Solo had to die. It was the only way. Leia is shaking her head as he explains, her eyes lost. 

“No, no, no. Did you think us so helpless?” she demands. “We would have helped you. Poe, Rey, me, Luke--you were never alone, Ben! Vengeance is a child’s game!,” Leia scolds him. Kylo is breathing heavily, his face red, and he crushes the beans in his hands, flesh oozing between his trembling fingers. 

“It is of great value to me,” he says coldly. “He made me murder my shipmates, Mother. These men’s lives were mine and I ended them! He ended them! And it all means nothing because there’s no damn evidence to take to court. Not like it matters because he’ll just buy off the judges and the juries because everyone is so afraid of Hux that no one will act!” He continues to rant, his volume increasing, his face flushing with each word he spits out. 

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show fear at this fearsome display because this is Ben, this is her son and he will always rage around her, never against her. Kylo sees her narrow her eyes, compress her lips and it only infuriates him more because he’s just a child again, reckless and indifferent with his mother always telling him that he never thinks through the consequences of his actions, and here she is repeating those same words at him. He wilts and Leia continues:

“I thought marrying Rey would ground you, make you less reckless but I was wrong. It’s made you careless, even more wild and that poor girl is the victim of my thinking.” Suddenly she’s mournful, guilty and Kylo feels a great pressure on his chest, a weight that he has learned to ignore for four years--every night, he would look at the heavens, watch the stars move as he had another sleepless night, turning his decisions over in his mind, imaging Rey was sitting next to him, reminding him of the names of the constellations. He would debate with himself the morality of his actions and always came down on righteousness. He kept her safe this way. 

Leia snaps the beans methodically, moving the sharp ends into a discard pile and dropped the rest in the bowl of slowly warming water. She remembers too keenly the day the telegram arrived: Ben Solo Dead Stop. All Souls Lost Stop. Rey was heaving upstairs, the baby taking far too long to come, and Leia was frightened. She had lost babies in childbirth and had wondered if it were a family curse. She balled her fist around the telegram, smiled politely to the errand boy and over tipped him before marching upstairs to be a mother to her only legacy now. It’s not until two weeks later when Rey is sitting in her rocking chair, Astrid at her breast, a dreamy smile on her face, her eyes on the sea, waiting for the Artemis that Leia tells her. Leia hesitated at the doorway before steeling herself to show Rey the telegram, serene Rey who gave her an inquisitive look at her grave face. Then Rey, sensible Rey, had handed Astrid off to her before locking herself into another room and wailing. Astrid, hearing her mother’s distress, had joined in and Leia was torn between who to comfort. In the end, Leia held the baby to her chest, cooing softly with Rey her head on Leia’s knees. They only had each other. 

“I’m sorry, mother,” Kylo was saying, his eyes averted. “But I wouldn’t change it. Hux is in a vulnerable position.”

“Why not just kill him?” 

“He needs to suffer as I suffered,” Kylo replies simply, as if that was all there was to it. Leia blanched and turned her head  away, sick to her stomach. She thought her son had returned but now she wasn’t sure she recognized this man in front of her. She notices a figure sliding between the corn stalks and collects herself. 

“You will tell Rey tonight. No more of this foolishness.” Kylo makes a scornful noise at her orders and she shakes her head, shooting him a furious glance. He stills. “Or I will.” Threats. Leia only made them if she planned on keeping them; he remembers this all too well from his parents endless fights, fights that drove him to the sea by the time he was fifteen. He tilts his head in consent and she nods regally. 

“What’s this?” Rey is cheerful as she reaches the table, her face a pleasant pink from exertion, the bruise on her cheek a dramatic purple. Kylo lifts his eyebrows; Rey is in brown rough cloth trousers and a man’s shirt, a handkerchief tied around her neck. He frowns as he recognizes the shirt as one of his own--correction, Ben Solo’s.  She looks down at his expression, slightly embarrassed before shrugging without an explanation. 

“Mr. Ren came by to see you and I put him to work,” Leia was saying, her voice natural, even, no sign an argument had just taken place. Rey smiles at him apologetically and his heart moves in double time; he craved that smile, longed for it, used to close his eyes to strain to remember it and here she offers it without any offer of payment from him. Rey is listening to Leia, pulling a cloth from her pocket and wiping sweat off her forehead. 

“It’s getting warm. I’ll bring out some drinks,” Leia stands hurriedly. “Lemonade, Mr. Ren?” He tears his eyes away from Rey to nod and as Leia leaves,  Rey takes her seat. 

“What do you think of it?” she asks waving her hand to mean the farm. 

“Well, I haven’t seen much of it but it seems to be a productive place. How are you feeling?” She turns her head away and he can see she doesn’t want  to talk about it. His hand darts forward to take hers in his and he’s frowning again--sure enough, her wedding ring is gone, a bleached echo on her skin its only trace that she was ever his. He rubs his finger against it and she wiggles her hand away. 

“Would you like a full tour?” she is asking, studiously avoiding the subject. “I need to go to the orchard to check on the trees so I can show you around.”

“I thought if I came, you said you would put me to work,” gently teasing, subtly reminding her of their conversation last night. True enough, she blushes and looks away from him, scanning the sky. 

“I’ve plenty of work for you to do, if you’re interested,” casually and he doesn’t miss the way she flicks her eyes over him, over his bare forearms. He doesn’t think he’s missing her meaning when he replies:

“Lead the way, Mrs. Solo. I am but yours to command.” She grins at him.

“To command. I quite like that.” And with that she spies Leia bearing a tray of glasses. Kylo leaps up to take the tray and his mother gives him an approving glance and he knows she’s measuring him up to Ben Solo and that he will always be found wanting.  He catches Rey giving him an appreciative look, a man helping her mother-in-law, a pleased gleam in her eyes.  And he fears what a confession will do to her. 

“Take your glass, Ren. We’ve got walking to do. Thanks, Leia,” Rey leans forward and places a light kiss on Leia’s cheek before grabbing her mug and striking out for the orchard. 

“Tell her,” Leia urges, handing him his glass. “I’ll take Astrid into the city with me tonight.”

“Trusting me alone with her?” He’s amused and she huffs. 

“She will need time to cope and it’s better if you have time to talk. She’ll be more demanding of your explanations. And it’ll give you time to rehearse your apologies and all the ways you are going to make it up to her.” With that warning shot, she pushes him after Rey who is waiting impatiently, one leg swung over a fence. Kylo gulps the slightly sour lemonade and follows her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose lemonade (as seen in earlier chapters) in the first few drafts but I kept it in because Beyonce. 
> 
> Striped candy is like peppermint sticks. In the Victorian era, they were also flavored with orange, anise, honey and often given to children on sticks (like lollies) to keep them quiet during church service. 
> 
> Fruit cakes were common at 19th century weddings and unlike modern weddings where the cake is shared and in western weddings, shoved in faces, it was often boxed up and given to guests in gratitude for coming to the wedding. Fruit cakes were special because they relied on flavoring from spices and fruits which were not as readily available. Supposedly they don't taste like the blocky dried fruitcakes we may be more familiar with during the December holiday season. 
> 
> I chose opals here because opals are common in Mexico. The Aztecs used opals in ceremonies. Opals were reputed to be lucky until they got a bad rep in the late 19th century. 
> 
> Rey is not committing a social transgression in wearing pants, just a bit of a faux pas. Women in the 19th century did have trousers but not as we know them. Puffy pieces under dresses that ended at the knee. Not useful for work. Women in the American West did wear trousers and supposedly blue jeans in the California Gold Rush. Most of the photos I've seen are from later in the century. Photography was expensive so people wouldn't be showing up in their work clothes.


	14. Interludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all that read and especially those who take a few moments to comment. I am deeply indebted to you for the encouragement to continue this little piece of je ne said quoi. 
> 
> And yes, I basically made Hux create the subprime mortgage crisis of the 19th century but with ships and shares.

Hux grinds his teeth and crumples the paper. He places his hands on his desk and leans forward, sweat beading on his forehead. Cursing he pushes himself up to throw open a window. Another ship lost. The third in less than a month. He rubs his hand against head, wondering what he will tell the investors. One is bad luck, two misfortune and three simply careless.

Hux had a brilliant idea of parceling up the ships and their expected income as shares and inviting investors to join in. It was the end result of his marriage between his shipping company and his role on the bank’s board. It had worked fantastically for over a year, the profits pouring in, shareholders toasting him, his own coffers growing. The first loss was covered by insurance but now the bank was teetering, poised to fail. As much as he despised Ren, he fervently hoped Snoke took him up on the offer for a tangible infusion. The cash would ease fears, would stop run on the bank that would most certainly happen as the town’s elite would eagerly spill Hux’s failure to everyone who mattered. 

The son of a headmaster, far too ambitious to be a banker and a ship owner. He recalls when a lecturer at New Haven, lounging with students at supper, had proclaimed Hux to be the lucky spoiled brat of the group, not quite smart enough to do well but clever enough to use connections to snag a seat at the table. Hux’s ears had stung but he held his head high, taking note of those who snickered, who had wormed their way into his heart as friends when they were younger at Arkanis Academy, courted him to curry his father. How they all wanted to be seen rowing with Hux, studying with Hux, all to earn his father’s favor and a glowing recommendation to Harvard or Yale. Brendol Hux’s letters  _ mattered _ . They were the difference between a warm acceptance or denial.

Hux was roommates with Ben Solo who had been less than impressed with his son of headmaster status. Then again, he was a son of the Boston Organas, heir to the Alderaan shipping fortune. Hux had desperately wanted to impress Ben, the only one he thought he could really get to know. Then Ben had fled, took to the sea and Hux had stayed the course until he stumbled out of Yale, degree in hand and promptly boarded one of Ben’s ships to seek relief, to discover if he were more than the plucky scholarship student. 

 

Now, now, now, floundering.  

Always a disappointment.

Hux jams his fist in his eyes, pushing back the tears that threaten. 

A knock at the door causes him to jerk up, pull down his shirt and casually lean against the window, calling to enter in a steady voice. Smith walks in, another set of notes in his hand. With a curt nod, Hux takes the correspondence and dismisses him, his eyes running over the notes. 

Watson was digging into Ren’s past and finding everything stellar. Hux wasn’t sure if he were pleased with this news or not. It certainly ensured the bank’s health. Another one was from the Bank of New York, certifying the transfer of funds between Mr. Jones and Mr. Winchester. Hux let his heart lift. The last one was from Snoke, saying he had accepted Ren’s offer and had transferred his full set of shares to Ren. Hux’s heart stuttered. Kylo Ren had seventy shares and controlled the board of First Order bank. His face reddening, he sat down and let out a strangled snarl. 

He needed to get Rey off her land and get that damn treasure. There was no more time to waste. He would subservient to no man, especially not to Kylo Ren who thought he had the right to stroll into town, to win over his investors, to take over the woman that should be his, to take over the bank that belonged to him. Hux seethed and tossed the letters in the trash. War had been declared, the first volley shot. He narrowed his eyes as he contemplated future recourse before deciding that Kylo Ren was an obstacle that must be removed. Hux was good at removing obstacles. He begins to write the request for an interview--a duel.

* * *

 

Poe could hardly believe his good luck. Finn had strolled in, bearing a picnic basket and asking for company for lunch. He knew he shouldn’t consider it a flirtation, knew the consequences, but he hardly dared hope the way Finn’s eyes held his. He had begun to suspect Finn might lean his way in the last two years as their correspondence grew, as he agreed to spy on Hux and First Order for Ben Solo. Certain turns of phrases, certain intonations, intimations. There really was only one way to find out.

Poe Dameron was not a coward. But he was cautious. 

Poe had led Finn out of town to a knoll overlooking the city, the ships bobbing in the harbor, their masts naked, sails curled up tight. He was explaining to Finn about the catboat races in a few weeks, pointing out the route the little boats would follow, how the weather determined the winner as much as skill (the weather drew out the real skills and Finn had nodded as if he understood).

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you showed up,” Poe remarked, taking a bite of the roast beef sandwich. “I still remember the shocked look on old man Wilde’s face when you handed him a First Order card.” 

“Well, I had worked for First Order--for about a month,” Finn replied, leaning back onto his elbows and flashing a smile. “I’m just relieved you informed him to grant a  Finn Archer access at any time.” 

“And how goes the plan?” Poe asks. “And why is he here as Kylo Ren? It gave me a heart attack to see Ben all dolled up. He hated formal clothes as a kid. And that scar.” At that Poe gave a low whistle and Finn shook his head. 

“You should have seen him shopping. He would constantly be asking if I thought Rey would like this, should he buy Rey this, should be buy his son this.” At Poe’s arched brow, he answered: “Yes, I forgot to tell him your tidbit about him having a daughter. I was hoping seeing her would shock him out of this plan and let him go straight for the jugular.”

“Did it?” 

“Not sure. I believe he’s meeting her for the first time today. But if not, Hux needs to be taught a lesson.” Finn suddenly sits up and draws his elbows close, leaning his arms on them. He quickly relates all that transpired last night. Poe grows hot and he jumps up, pacing. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he growls. He had included updates about Rey occasionally in his missives to Finn until Finn had begged off, explaining in one letter that Ben would go on for hours about her and any news was likely to set her off. Finn felt he knew Rey better than anyone else, almost as if he were also married to her. Poe had watched them chatting at Ben’s party last night and knew Finn was trying to determine what magic she possessed that had bewitched his friend. When Hux had proposed, Poe had dashed off a letter, urging them to step up their plans. 

Then in walked Finn Archer, smooth skin, his eyebrow cocked in confidence and Poe’s heart had stuttered. This was the man with whom he had been corresponding with increasing frequency and intimacy. Finn had confessed about his life prior to working with Kylo and Poe had agonized over the letter he sent back, days spent in determining how to soothe, how to comfort, with only words, weak words at which he failed. Poe preferred action. And now, Finn sat next to him and Poe could smell the heat coming off of him, sandalwood, cedar mingling with the briny breeze brushing over them. 

Finn catches Poe watching him and turns to give him his full attention. And Poe sits still,, basking in the scrutiny, looking back. It’s Finn who breaks the silence, who reaches forward to slowly grasp Poe’s chin in his fingers. Poe pauses and Finn licks his own bottom lip, uncertainty hovering around his eyes. Poe closes the gap and presses his mouth against Finn. He tastes exactly as he imagined and more. Finn isn’t shy, returning his kiss with ferocity, with a tug with his teeth on Poe’s lips, before pulling back. 

“We should stop before some other couple catches us,” he murmurs, his warm breath skating over Poe’s chin. Poe is figuring out how to breathe again, his eyes never leaving Finn, Finn who is pulling away, offering a hand. “I’ll escort you home and we can discuss our options for Hux.”

“Come by tonight,” he exhales. Finn tightens his jaw before giving a curt nod and Poe’s heart is careening into his ribs, and he is light and he finds he can’t stop smiling. Finn simply rolls his eyes, muttering that Poe is as bad as Kylo, and gathers up their plates, stuffing them into a basket. 

“But first,” Finn is still talking, his voice talking on a business tone. “I need to stop by the docks to ensure a shipment has arrived.” Poe stills. He knows--he’s fairly confident--he knows which one this is. 

“Tonight? So soon?”

“Either tonight or tomorrow,” Finn confirms. “Then the only thing we’ll have to figure out is how to arrange for Hux to find out.” Poe worries his lip between his teeth, his brow furrowing before he grabs Finn’s wrist.

“I’ve an idea,” he exclaims. 


	15. Wherever Your Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey get more than a little frisky in the orchard.  
> And this meets the May Month of Masturbation challenge! At least one of them! Success!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the old FFnet days, we should toss internet candy to our readers. So here I am handing over tons of portions to you, my very kind readers.  
> 

The hot June sun beats down mercilessly on the pair as Rey directs Kylo in pulling weeds. Everything is bathed in a harsh white light and Kylo wipes away the sweat collecting on his forehead, watching Rey do the same before gesturing for him to get up.

Rey shoves a basket into Kylo’s arms and he trails her as she pulls out lettuce, checks on the growth of her corn, cheers as she finds fresh strawberries. He isn't ashamed to admit that she has made the farm a wonder, a place of plenty where all he saw was labor without reward. When Han had gifted it to Ben, he had wondered what his father was thinking. In theory, he could be a farmer but his heart belonged to another mistress who was cold and unforgiving and rolled the world wide. His gaze lingers on Rey and is thankful for the few months he had with her; he’s known many a sea captains who widow their wives as soon as they marry, either through true death or constant devotion to the sea. But Rey took to the farm, ruthlessly organizing the plots, devouring every book she could find on husbandry, listening to Chewie drone on about grafting techniques, water tables, and the problem with cash crops. He doesn’t remember Rey wearing trousers though and as she bends over, presenting him with pants perfectly molded to her behind, his mouth goes dry and he thinks this was a good thing. Too much of their marriage was spent in bed and not enough in conversation.

He has more than one misgiving about that.

He follows her into the orchard and sighs contentedly as they walk into the shade. He pauses as she walks straight toward the black walnut tree, still growing, still marked by the names he hacked into its skin the week after their wedding. His breath catches as he surveys the roots for damage. This here, his true inheritance from his father, his gift to Rey. The black walnut tree that he had more than once had shoved her up against, too impatient to get back to the house, tearing at her skirts, his mouth ravenous on hers, her neck, his hands roaming over her as if he were drowning and she were the air that filled his lungs.

He swallows hard and hopes Rey doesn’t notice his faltering steps. She is trailing her hands over the clumsily carved Ben + Rey and as he places the basket on the ground, he notices her inhale sharply and plaster a smile on her face. He is captivated by the sunlight filtering through the walnut leaves playing on her face and he blinks rapidly.

Kylo Ren fascinates women, he reminds himself, not the other way around.

It’s a role he’s been perfecting, smiling ruthlessly at women who giggle behind fans, at tavern girls who have no hesitancy at straddling him and offering more. The smooth ways to reject without harming. He’s learned what to say in moments that matter but in this one, all his education has fled his mind and he’s captured by the image of Rey,  her face smooth and relaxed, leaning against the tree.

He remembered that he loved her but it was only when she was in front of him that he knew why, that love wasn’t a distant memory but something more than hazy recollections of naked bodies, of faint conversations. It demanded his attention, she demanded every minute he could give her without even asking and he wouldn’t regret giving. She filled him, made him remember how to be more than bitterness and wrath.

She doesn’t say anything, her hazel eyes coolly evaluating him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away.

“I used to love to come to this grove. I still do,” Rey begins laconically. “My husband always used to say that this place was part of his heart and wherever his treasure was, his heart would be also.”

“Your husband was a Christian man, then,” he replies, his heart drumming an erratic tattoo. He wonders if she picked up his double meaning when he had whispered those words, repeating them more frequently as he prepared to leave with the Artemis. Rey shrugged.

“He was many things. I think he thought those words were pretty more than anything else.” Her eyes grow sad as she speaks and he watches her worry her ring finger, reaching for a token no longer there. Kylo Ren would seize this opportunity, he reminds himself.

“He probably just meant you were his treasure, which is a sentiment I would share,” he pauses and shows her the lust he is feeling. “If you would let me.” Her cheeks color and he is pleased. Not every man gets the opportunity to seduce his wife twice and he doesn’t mind admitting that he is enjoying this game. He steps toward her and lifts her hand to his lips, running them over the knuckles, his eyes never leaving her face. “I would be whatever you want me to be, Rey.”

“Isn’t it normally the other way around?” she asks, her voice high. He runs his thumb over her jaw, lightly touches her bruises before bending down and briefly kissing her. Kylo watches disappointment flit across her face as he pulls away.

“I have made my intentions clear to your mother in law and told Hux he has a rival for your affections,” he murmurs and hears her breathing become shallow. He traces her neck, allowing his finger to dip below her neck kerchief and walk across the hint of her collarbone in the shirt. He hesitated before thumbing one button open and bending to plant a kiss at the notch below her throat.

“I believe you to be a discreet man, Kylo.” She is looking at him and he stands, towers over her, and smiles reassuringly.

“As I said before--I am yours to command.”

“I don’t want a courtship. I want something else, I want something more,” she begins bluntly before pausing, blushing and he steps in.

“Lovers, Rey? That has its own set of consequences.”

“I live far enough from town. I know how not to get with child.” And he winces as her words, looks at the uncompromising set of her jaw, the way her eyes were flicking over him, the way her hands have slid down to rest on his hips.  

“Why me? From my understanding there are plenty of men in town who would have been yours.” He picks up her hand and runs his thumb over her ring mark. “What about your husband?”

“Ben Solo is dead. I’ve known it for over three years. I’m just too stubborn to accept it.”

“And why now?”

“You made me remember how to want,” her voice is low, almost guilty and he bends down to kiss her again, to reward her honesty, to hide how he is feeling. She nibbles at his lips, entreating him to open his mouth with a little moan and she is tasting him and he wants more than this, he has her shoved against the tree again and he wonders if he will ever have his fill of her. There are no more words left. His conscience pricks at him, reminds him of Finn’s cautious words,and he shoves it aside.

Ben Solo was always reckless and it’s an unfortunate trait Kylo Ren inherited.  

He is unbuttoning her blouse, her nimble fingers working at his vest and shirt and finally he’s peeled it off her shoulders and his mouth follows, covering her with kisses, feeling the muscles beneath her skin. Her callused hands are running over his chest and he faintly remembers this scene playing out a dozen times before, Rey in her skirts, growing more eager with each encounter. It feels sinful to be acting this again, against this tree. Rey, as if sensing his indecisiveness, pulls his face to hers.

“I’m not afraid. I want this.” She isn’t begging but it’s close enough to count. His masculine pride preens at his ability to bring the daring side of her out. In response, he leans down and slides a pert breast out of her chemise, grateful she gave up a corset when she was on the farm. He watches her eyes close, a rapturous smile over her face as he thumbs her nipple, a pleased sigh escaping her swollen lips. He forgot how perfectly they fit in his hands and he half kneels over her as his tongue circles her nipple, her skin pebbling at his touch before taking her in his mouth, sucking, biting at the underskin. Rey is panting, her nails digging into his shoulders and he hoists her up, her legs locking around his waist as he worships her breasts with his mouth, his other hand massaging her ass. She whines as he pulls away and turns his attention to her neck, kissing each bruise Hux left, running his tongue across the dip in her collarbone.

“More,” she demands, breathy. “I need more.” In response, he lets her slide down the tree and unbuttons her trousers. His mind is a haze, he realizes he would need to strip her to take her on the tree--damned pants! he curses---and there are too many risks and his conscience gnaws at him that if he tells Rey tonight, she’ll beat him senseless if he fucks her against a tree. He can’t do that, he thinks dimly, and contents himself by shoving his hand into her pants, finding her already wet as he parts her folds and reaching for the bundle of nerves that will have to satisfy her. He strokes her, cursing her wetness, his mouth on hers, and she is grinding against his palm and she is whimpering and his cock is throbbing and he’s pissed that it’s another night of him in his hand, using his memories to get off, and he shoves a finger inside of her and her nails are raking across his back, she has his nipple in her mouth, moaning around it, teeth nicking it and he thinks he can't go on much longer. Her cries are coming together faster now and he runs his thumb across her, and she’s clenching around him and slumping into the tree, sweat trickling down their spines. He runs a gentle finger across her sex and she shivers.

They say nothing and he focuses on his breathing, on willing the ache in his body to go away. But then Rey is sliding down, a wicked smile on her face. She’s kneeling in front of his pants and he wants, he wants, he wants this so badly that his mouth is dry, his head is nodding yes, but his legs are backpedaling.

Truth tonight would bring consequences.

He could get away with what he has done so far but his dick in her mouth would cross the line and he knows it. He is longing for it and he can the blood singing in his veins, there is a roaring in his ears but he finds himself stumbling over an apology.

“If we go that far, Rey, I want more than a quick one in the orchard.” He’s pleased he sounds smooth. “If we take this all the way, you deserve more and I need time to truly give you pleasure.” She’s looking less rejected, more thrilled by his suggestion, and he feels relief flood his system.

“Leia is taking Astrid into town tonight. Perhaps a late dinner for you and me? I have some apples I was going to make into a cake.” As she is speaking, he can’t help but stare at her. Her trousers are unbuttoned, her skin glowing, her shirt gaping open to reveal her breasts, bruises growing on her chest where he bit and suckled too hard. She looks like a woman possessed and the feeling curls inside of him-- _minemineminemine_ \--fighting with the hazy memory of a woman who looked like her in a tavern in Telchac Puerto whom he followed upstairs drunk on rum and regret and lonesomeness.

He knew he would have to tell Rey that too. He knew that the wedding ring branding his finger had prevented him from going further than a few kisses but he understood she wouldn’t see it that way.

She is looking at him expectantly and he smiles. He hasn’t been following her and is rewarded by disappointment sweeping through him. He isn’t sure he is the husband she deserves.  

“Better button up,” he whispers, “Otherwise I don’t know if I can stop myself again.” She blushes, but satisfied, and he takes the opportunity to brush a tendril of hair out of her eyes.

“I’m a bit nervous about tonight,” she babbles. “I’ve never taken a lover outside of Ben.” Guilt stabs him again. He gives her an easy smile.

“Don’t worry. It’ll just be the two of us tonight. We will make our own rules.” And he places a kiss on her temple, missing her stilling at his words.

“What did you say?” She asks carefully. Frowning he repeated:

“It’ll just the the two of us tonight. We will make our own rules.” She looks at him dazed and he raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” And she flashes him a smile of such intensity that he feels his heart stop for a moment. He is dazzled by it, doesn’t notice the coldness slip in her eyes as she tightens her belt, the trembling bottom lip. “I have a lot of work to finish today. Do you want to stay and help or do you have business to attend elsewhere?”

“I’m afraid I have business elsewhere.” He is loathed to admit it but he needs to meet with Snoke, needs to buy out the contracts First Order has on his former shipmates, discuss with Finn how best to convince Hux to raid a ship coming to port. So many details and all he wanted to do was sink himself into Rey. She pulls her lips into an approximation of a smile and pushes herself up on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw.

  
“I promise you won’t forget tonight,” she whispers before picking up the basket of food and heading off toward the house. Kylo sighs and his heart lighter than it’s been in days, he follows her out of the orchard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. Ben, you are so fucked. 
> 
> Interestingly enough, fuck has been used since at least the 13th century. I love how humanity has just found creative ways to swear since from beginning of the time, that the artwork found in Pompeii is mostly swear words and porn. Go you, humanity.


	16. A Good Love Gone To Waste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not what I wanted it to be. But I don't think, four versions in, that it will be. I hope in some measure it satisfies. 
> 
> Kylo would curse. He's a sailor. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Animals being cooked and potential language that could be a trigger for sexual assault victims 
> 
> Thanks to all my readers. I exist on Tumbler as HausCrashBurn: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hauscrashburn

Rey generally considered herself to be a cheerful girl. She enjoyed feeling the way the dirt crumbled under her nails, how she was able  to extract tempting and plentiful food from the earth, the stillness and companionship in the mornings she spent having coffee with Leia, chatting about something or another. She took a quiet joy in watching Leia sit with Astrid, her arms wrapped around the little girl, her greying skin next to Astrid’s soft cheeks, showing her the letters or numbers and how Leia would wipe away a discreet tear when Astrid would plant sticky kisses against her grandmother’s cheek or whispered “I love you” with all the sincerity of the tired drunkness of a toddler. Rey would feel her heart lift when Astrid would jump into the bed with her, wrap her little arms around her neck and protest getting up to greet the day. She enjoyed the silent, still moments alone, the expert way she could tell if a plant was dead or dying and how to coax it back. The comfort she found having tea with Poe or the moments of gossip with Phasma.  

 

Rey had crafted her own life, re-making her life anew with each challenge. 

Wife. 

Single mother.

Widow.

Farmer.  

 

Rey knew she was considered a beautiful woman. Even before Ben, she had a few men hazard losing her good opinion of them by suggesting they could be more. She had usually dismissed them with a laugh, trying to squash her knee jerk reaction that all proposals were absurd. Her dream was elsewhere. She would never rely on anyone again. It was only Ben’s determination, his constancy, that had convicted her, coupled with her fear that the streets were never far away, that starving was never more than a few meals away, that marriage was possible. He made the scavenger in her an offer of a home and she agreed to stay. 

His belief that they could make their own rules, his disregard for most social mores, his devotion to her whims and to her body truly won her over. He had taught her things that only lovers could learn from one another, about themselves. How they could unhurriedly discover each other’s joys, what drove each other to the edge and how to deny it, how to prolong it, how to take them both over. How cuddling feels beneath blankets on a frost hung morning, how his lips would dissolve her terror of being forgotten, of being left alone, how he would kiss away her tears, slowly and delicately.

The tears would not come today. And for that Rey felt a bitterness, a tiredness that weighed her down, that had her collapsing heavily in the fields. She was overwhelmed, under assault, dizzy and she put one hand on the earth, running her nails through the dirt and wheezing, blood roaring in her ears.

Ben Solo was not dead.

It rang and repeated in her head and she couldn’t remember how her heart beat. She thinks it's empty, her chest has nothing within it.

Scar tissue where a muscle used to be. 

 

Rey tilted her head back and screamed her rage at the sky, at the gods, at the very sea itself.

Ben Solo could not handle her rage. 

She doesn’t think she can either. 

 

She sobs deeply, unable to fully inhale, and falls face forward into the ground and weeps. 

 

Ben Solo had made her strong. 

He had given her space to learn who Rey Solo was. 

He had sat beside her, holding her hand, telling her awful jokes while they watched the sun set. 

 

He had promised her honesty. 

He had promised a lot of things and all she ended up with were years of waiting and broken vows.

She could not fathom why. She could taste the blood in her mouth, her fury clawing its way through her grief.

 

She was done crying tears for Ben Solo. 

 

She heard the grass rustling behind her, sensed Leia watching her carefully, concern pursing her lips. Rey gave a harsh imitation of a laugh. Of course, Leia knew. She would have pieced it together far faster than foolish, poor, stupid Rey.

Rey the charity case.

Rey mentally slapped herself. This was not the time to fall apart.

In some ways, she reflected, Hux had been more forthright than Kylo Ren.

Her husband, she seethed. 

Rey lumbered to her feet and turned to face Leia. Her face is drawn, her eyes dry, the tears staining her cheeks, and Leia says nothing, only holds out her arms, gathers Rey to her and plants a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, Rey. You are my daughter,” she murmurs fiercely. 

Rey did not cry again, did not speak.

She had given all of herself and she could feel his kisses, his fingers branding her, soiling her, and Rey began to shamble toward the house. 

“I need a bath,” she mumbles, anxious to get into warm water and sponge off any memory of his kisses. She scrubs at her lips but cannot remove the sensation of them, his mouth permanently pressed against hers, a tattoo that she will carry forever.

As Rey sits in the tub, her knees drawn up to her chest, she reflects that with all of his wealth, his rich fabrics and glittering jewels, he must have grown use to a fine rather above their shabby, lived in home. The curtains needed mending and her hooked rug was starting to unravel, knick knacks littered the space, Astrid’s toys dropped around the room, the chair’s fabrics fading from the sunlight.

And she wondered how he got the scar, the slight limp that he would betray occasionally. She wondered if anyone else from the Artemis survived or if the was the only one. How dark and decayed the scar looked, as if it had festered for weeks. And her heart began to slowly learn how to beat again, a trickle of sympathy warmed her and she snorted and splashed water on her face. 

She remembered the courtesy way he intervened when Hux became too cruel at the dinner party. The tender way he took care of her bruises, how he had insisted on caring for her when most people would have fled. 

No one wanted to fight to Hux and some mornings Rey wearily wondered why she hadn’t just caved.

She allowed herself to reflect on the little kindnesses Kylo had shown her, how reluctant he had been during the first kiss, how he had tried so hard to get her to laugh at the ball. And her heart thawed. 

Rey wrapped herself in a simple shift when she went into the kitchen to prepare a cake. She lost herself in the rhythm of mixing the batter, adding the egg, measuring out sugar, the sound of knife on the wood as she rapidly chopped apples. Routine stopped her mind from gnawing her into pieces. 

Leia walked in and leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes tracking Rey’s every move. She took in the dark circles under Rey’s eyes, the clumsy buns, the way her hands would occasionally tremor. And she cursed her son. 

“Ben is coming for dinner tonight,” Rey said quietly, her voice cracked and unused. Leia felt old in that moment, worn out. 

“So you figured it out,” Leia replied. Rey turned her face to look at Leia, planted her floury fist on her hip, her brow furrowed. Leia could see the pride in her eyes, wavering. 

“Was it some sort of joke? To keep it from me?” Rey was trying so hard not to cry. Leia shook her head and sat down heavily, putting her head in her hands. 

“I can’t answer your questions, Rey. But if any of my son exists in this Ren, then his actions, his alias, are not about you. They are about himself. Because Ben--”

“Is reckless.” Rey cuts her off. “And doesn't think about consequences. I guess my marriage to him didn’t do what you hoped.” Leia noticed the sting in Rey’s voice and imagines slapping her son for this mess. She hopes Rey does. Instead of answering, she just gives Rey a lopsided grin and slow shake of her head. Rey snorts and tosses her towel on the table before bringing her knife down on the unsuspecting vegetables. Leia winces as Rey viciously cuts the carrots and potatoes before dumping them into a pot. With another sigh and creaking knees, Leia gets up and heads out to collect Astrid. 

“He loves you, Rey. “

“If he loved me, how could he do this to me? I’ve been faithful to him for all these years. He should have the courtesy to confess this to me but now I have to drag it out of him tonight. How could he do this to his daughter?” Outrage drives her words faster out of her mouth until she Rey screams and tosses her knife, lodging it into the door post. Leia just raises an eyebrow. 

“Impressive. Next time Hux comes calling, I’m making sure you are armed with knives.” Rey recognizes Leia’s attempt at humor and just shakes her head. Leia nods at Rey’s chemise. “It’ll be dark soon. Are you really going to greet him in your undergarments? Seems like it would put you at a disadvantage.” Rey gives Leia a smile, all edges and violence. Leia feels a shiver of pride. This Rey was a promise of violence, of revenge tonight and she thought that perhaps all the disadvantages were on Ben’s side. She exits the house, Rey standing in the kitchen, one hand on the table, her nails clicking on the wood as she frowned in thought.

* * *

 

As night settles over the town, the stars winking in the darkening sky,  Kylo is issuing last minute instructions to Finn. Edmund, the little farm boy for whom Rey has found work on Maz’s farm, is informing Hux that he heard a rumor that Kylo Ren was having a shipment of gold coming in from somewhere south, that Finn Archer was seen trying to bribe a customs official, that he overhead Poe Dameron saying this and Hux leans forward, chin in hand, intrigued. Edmund’s hand is in his pocket, his grimy fist clutching the three dollar piece Poe had given him to spin this tale. His hungry little heart is a traitor, he knows, but the weight of the three dollars in his pocket reminds him that he can feed his family for weeks now. 

 

Kylo lets the letter from Hux drop onto his table.

A challenge for a duel and he barks a harsh laugh. 

After tonight, Hux will be detained, at least temporarily behind bars. He picks up his cane and heads toward Rey’s, feeling both dread and anticipation. He think the best case scenario is that she yells at him and then maybe some kissing and forgiveness. Worst case? He’s using his cane to defend himself from her fury. 

He fervently hopes for best case. His mother, he reminds himself, took it rather well. To be fair, she had figured it out. He still hadn’t figured out the best way to tell Rey and knew that his mother was degrees more pragmatic than Rey was. She understood revenge. Rey would only see another betrayal in a life littered with it. 

He probably should have sent her a note letting her know what was going on, he realizes, wincing as he knows tonight is going to be torturous. He takes the flask from his pocket and takes a deep swallow before dismounting. He doesn't quite drag his feet as he walks up to his front door. He knocks once before opening the door. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the lights were dim but he couldn’t see Rey. 

He walks into the kitchen and pauses when he sees a knife embedded in the doorpost. He turns to see Rey standing in front of the kitchen table, a rabbit in front of her, a cleaver in her hand, clad only in a simple chemise. He believes her to be a vision of loveliness, the cream soft against her sun kissed skin, her hair haloing around her face in the humid kitchen, her feet bare and longing to be kissed. As his eyes skim her body, his pleased smirk begins to droop. 

He knows that little line between her two brows, the way she is looking up at him from beneath her lashes, the way the corner of lip is crooked. 

She knows. 

A part of him is relieved. The more rational part of him is frightened. He does what any sane man would do in his place. He drops to his knees, his eyes beseeching. 

“I am so sorry, my darling Rey.” She snorts and swings the clever, separating a thigh from the rabbit’s body and Kylo winces. Her eyes have not left his face as she removes the other leg. 

“Keep talking, Kylo.” She sneers his name. “ I’m going to need a whale of a tale to keep myself from using this on you.” She levels the cleaver at him before bringing it down and cut through the spine.  Kylo goes pale and feels a bit dizzy. Climbing to his feet, he cautiously walks over to the sideboard where the liquor sits and reaches for the whiskey. 

“Ah! That is not yours,” Rey snaps. “This house, everything in it is mine. Left to me when my husband Ben Solo died. You familiar with him?” Kylo shoots her a dark look and jerks open the decanter, pouring himself a full tumbler. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Rey,” he jeers. “This house belongs to me. All it takes is a short talk with a judge and it’s all back with me.” Rey slams her knife on the board and strides up to him, eating up the ground faster than Kylo can react and he’s pushed up against the sideboard and she’s standing on her toes in his face. 

“What do you want?” She bites out every word and he sees the fury and the shame and the pain in her too expressive hazel eyes and he stupidly reaches out to touch her soft skin. She smacks his hand down. 

“You, Rey. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He barely gets the words out before his cheek is stinging from the force of her slap. 

“Four years! I waited for you for four years! How could you do this to me?” She reaches back to slap him again but Kylo intervenes, grabbing her arm and twisting. Rey yelps and jumps back, rubbing her arm, a little bit of fear sliding into her eyes. 

Kylo is breathing heavily, realizing he’s passed some sort of line. He’s never touched her with violence before. With a snarl, he turns and runs his hand along the side board, throwing all of the glassware off and splattering onto the ground. Rey takes a hesitant step back and it enrages him even more. He lashes out and jerks her close to him. 

“It was about protecting you, Rey. Hux tried to kill me and made it very clear that he wasn’t above using you to hurt me. I couldn’t bear the thought of it.” His ire is flowing out of his voice and his anguish seeping in. “I was absolutely terrified that he if somehow intercepted a letter to you that he would come after you, that he would hurt you.”

“You didn’t read that right!” Rey shoves him away and gestured toward her bruises. “Looks like he would do it in either case.” Kylo is slowly shaking his head. 

“No, this is nothing, Rey. He would have done far worse. If he thought harming you could get you what he wanted, he would stop at nothing.” He loads the last words and is grateful that she picks up his meaning, that he doesn’t need to explain it. Her mouth drops open and she draws her arm across her breasts. “Yes I fucked up. Yes I understand that I need to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. But I did what I thought was right to protect you.” 

“Keep talking, Kylo. You’re making a good case.” Rey’s voice is sharp, cold and Kylo growls, running his hand through his hair. He paces the room. 

“Talk about what?”

“Your face, for one. The Artemis--what happened to her and to your crew? Where did you meet Finn? Where did you get all of this money?”The questions tumble out of her and Kylo sighs tiredly. He walks over to the kitchen, grabs the plate of apple cake and flips the towel off of it. He hunts around for a fork before Rey interjects. “I moved them. Far right drawer.” Ben snatches one after giving her a quick searching look. Why would she re-arrange the kitchen? How much would he need to re-learn about his house? Giving a shrug, he digs into her cake and has to hold back a moan. 

He forgot how well she could cook. The middle layer was slightly crunchy, the cinnamon and sugar softening the tartness of the apples, the surrounding cake moist. He closes his eyes and realizes he had been yearning for her cooking, for her domesticity for years now and hadn’t quite realized what it was he missed. In this moment, as he hears her angrily slamming down a pot for coffee, plunking the can on the table, he knows he’s missed what it means to make a home. He drops the fork and bites back the tears forming behind his eyes. 

“You’re not talking,” Rey comments as she slides a seat across from him, picking at the food with him. He snorts and can remember more than one night that they sat exactly like this, gorging themselves on food and each other.  He begins to tell the story of the Artemis, the mutiny and explosion, how he floated for weeks at sea, his recovery and discovery of Hux’s treachery.  About his mad plan for revenge, about how Hux should be negotiating a tight place this very night. As he talks, she interjects, asking questions, asking him to repeat key bits. He's always admired her keen mind and he can see her heart and mind warring.  Sympathy is relaxing the tension in her face and she is listening closely, her chin in her hands. He can sense her anger abate but knows it will rise again, often unexpected. 

“What I can’t understand,”Rey begins, standing up and stretching and Ben clenches his fists, unable to reach out and pull her onto his lap. “How could you send a letter to Poe but not to me?” 

“Finn wrote the letters using the code Poe and I had as children,” he answers simply, watching her pick up the broom pan. She thrusts it toward him and gestures with her chin the mess he made earlier. He flushes, entirely embarrassed before getting up to begin to sweep. 

“And you never thought I could receive a random letter from someone? A little something is all I needed, Kylo.” Her fists are by her side and he’s seen her face softening but recognizes hanging on to anger. He does it every day. 

“Alex Michaels was twelve years old and on his first trip with me, a quick run. His brother had died on a whaler in the South Pacific and his father, a drunk. His mother had recommended he ship with me because I always come back and sooner than expected,” he struggles to keep his voice low and even. “Mitaka put a bullet between his eyes in front of me when he stepped in front of me to defend me.” Rey stops wiping the crumbs off the table and lets her shoulders drop. Her eyes are on him and he meets her gaze. It was vital he explained this clearly. 

“Twelve years old and nothing, just murdered by the very people sworn to protect him. I had an obligation to this boy and to his family and he died because of it. If I don’t take on Hux, then they all died for nothing.” He swallows and plows on . “I knew mother would take care of you. Poe would keep me informed. I was sending money to pay down the loan you took from Resistance. You didn’t notice how low your interest was or how fast the loan was paid off? Once Poe sent us word that Hux was courting you, Finn and I got on the fastest carriage here.”

Rey watched his face tightening, the floridness of the scar shine brighter as he spoke his misery and felt her anger slide off of her. They had a hard road ahead, she knew, and she would make him work to make it up to her, but her heart skipped a beat and she realized that she still loved him. 

But Ben Solo was dead. 

This man in front of her was no longer him. 

“We need to do something for these families,” she states clearly and Kylo nods eagerly. “How are you able to afford all of this finery?” Kylo hesitantly launches into the story of how he found the treasure his dad always bragged about, how obscenely wealthy he know was. 

“And what have you been doing besides dressing like that?” she gestures toward his clothes and makes a face. She did not care for the new fashion with the wide pants, for the excessive fabric. Kylo’s face falls. 

“Well, I am now the majority shareholder of First Order Bank which means I have the final vote in a lot of matters. And Finn has been funneling money into mother’s charities to help the widows and families of the Artemis.”

“You need to do something more concrete.” Kylo spreads his hands. 

“I am yours to command,” and she stills at that, remembering his words in the orchard. She pauses and frowns. 

“Why do you keep saying this land is your treasure?” But as she asks the question she realizes the answer. “Oh,” she breathes and Kylo is nodding. 

“Dad found a portion of the treasure and buried it under the black walnut tree and then purchased this land. If he couldn’t find the whole thing, there would be some here, enough he said to make mom more than comfortable.”

“And this is why Hux wants me to marry him,” she is shaking her head as she speaks, the pieces falling into places. “Treasure and one last defiant gesture toward Ben Solo.” Kylo walks toward her, holds out his arms and she moves away, slowly. She’s not ready for his arms yet. 

“I will do what ever you want,” he is saying and she is looking at the floor where he threw his fit and tries to imagine her future. Rey was a girl who made plans, who knew what she was doing before the next month even started. Now she stood on a precipice, uncertain. Kylo is watching her, his eyes darting around the room, occasionally resting on her before moving away. She recognizes nervousness and sniffs. 

“You would need to court me and we would need to get married.” 

“We already are married.”

“Ben Solo is dead. I am being courted by Kylo Ren. I believe he made that clear to Hux, to Leia, and to most of the town,” her voice is dry and he crinkles his nose. 

“Rey, we already belong to each other--” and she cuts him off by holding up her hand.

“Am I not worth the effort?” Her voice is a little shy, a little curt. 

Kylo huffs. 

“Ok, but I’m not not waiting three years. We place a time limit on this.” He captures her hand and gazes earnestly into her face. “I’ve waited so long for you, Rey. Don’t deny me too long.” Rey uneasily draws her hand away and takes a step back. 

“You missed a spot,” she replies before turning and strolling back into the kitchen but not without turning back to give him a cheeky grin. She doesn’t want to admit that she’s waited and hoped for so long too that she didn’t want to punish herself as well. 

As she cleans up the kitchen, she asks him casually: “What would you have done if you found out if I had re-married?”

He straightens up as he places the trash away. “I would have fed him to the sharks bit by bit.” She stops, her mouth open and watches him, a strange thrill running up her spine as she grasps that he is serious. 

“Rey, there is something I have to confess,” he says, his face grave. She blinks her eyes, her heart freezing, and she is certain the thing she has dreaded hearing him say is about to come. She steels herself. “One night, I allowed myself to be seduced by another woman.” 

“Allowed yourself to be seduced? What you gave permission first? Or it just happened? Oops, my pants fell!” She is sarcastic, fury bubbling up in her, a combination of gut wrenching jealousy and a desire to lash out. 

“Sorry, what I meant to say was, I kissed another girl.” His head is hanging down and he won’t look at her and she waits, expecting more. 

“That’s it?” She is puzzled. She had listened to him relating how he traveled around the Caribbean with Finn, trying to find the treasure and buying information on the First Order, and had expected this sort of confession. But hadn’t expected it to end at kissing. He is looking at her seriously. 

“Yes. What happened between you and me last night and today in the orchard? That’s been the first time I’ve been with someone since I left you.” And Rey feels her heart wobble and she inhales sharply to keep her blood flowing and puts down her rag and walks to her bedroom. This entire day has been entirely too much for her, she thinks, and she lays down in her bed, curling up to one side. A part of her hopes she will wake up in the morning and realize it was a bad dream; the sensible part of her knows that the hard work in her life has just begun and that every day she will need to decide if she wants to kiss him or kill him. 

She feels the bed drop as he climbs in next to her and wraps his arm around her, pulling her close. She wants to tell him to leave, but lets his warmth steal over her. 

“Do you think Astrid will like me?” his voice is plaintive and meek in the dark room and Rey laughs. It is a mournful sound and Kylo hugs her tighter to him. 

“I’m sure you’ll have to win her over same as me,” she replies drowsily and he chuckles. “Kylo?

“Hm?”

“You keep anything else from me again, I’ll kill you and strip you, just like that rabbit.” She feels Kylo move his hips back from her and with a small smile on her face, lets herself relax and remember what it’s like to be comforted. His love was hers for the taking and she would take it slow, discover what kind of man he had become but for tonight she was going to take the luxury of being held for its sake alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The apple cake here is more of an apple pudding, like a bread pudding. Here is the recipe: https://lostcookbook.wordpress.com/category/cookbook-recipes/19th-century-recipes/  
> Scroll down for apple pudding


	17. Battlelines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia witnesses Hux's atrocities, uncovers unlikely allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly unedited. I leave for vacation soon and don't know if I will be able to write so I'm trying to punch this out before I go. Please forgive my errors.

Leia gives Cecil Thesus Jackson III clear instructions before she leaves, including handing over a rifle as she shrugs on her gray cloak.  Cecil maintains her apartments in town for entertaining and is fastidious in all accounts. He holds the rifle by two gloved fingers, his mouth turned down as if he were trying not to inhale something foul. She goes to check on Astrid one last time, runs her hand over Astrid’s smooth locks before adjusting the quilt around her and leaving the room. Her one and only grandchild. With Ben’s return, she needed to make it clear that she expected more. 

“Is it not late, my lady to be going out? It is well past midnight,” Cecil whines. 

“There is much to be accomplished in the dark, Cecil,” she says dryly. 

“Of course, my lady, whatever you wish” Cecil is saying smoothly. “I will keep an eye on Astrid. You can be assured all will be well here.” Leia flicks her eyes over him, reminds him to securely lock all the doors, and windows and heads out into the night.  

She strikes out for Phasma’s place, close to the docks, close to whatever she thinks will happen tonight. She’s heard far too many rumors about a moneyed ship. As much as she dislikes Phasma, the woman has her pulse on the underworld. Leia had ceded her control in this area. She had been busy with assisting those fighting against the First Order and taking care of Rey and as whatever was going on between Ben and Hux reached an end, she regretted losing those contacts. 

Leia drew the hood tight around her face as she hurried down the road, her footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet night, broken only by the soft nickering of a horse and the lapping of the water at the docks. Leia rapped smartly on the door and a man opened, dressed in a mockery of a suit, his muscular arms bare to the world. Leia raised an eyebrow; she may be a widow but she could definitely appreciate the view. 

“I need to speak with Phasma,” she commands pushing her way in. If she waited for Phasma to come to her, she would wait all night. The man only sneers at her before strolling down the hallway. Leia takes a moment to survey the room and finds them overly dressed, too many reds. 

“Leia Organa Solo. I am so honored,” Phasma silkily slides into the room, her eyes demure. Leia snorts. Phasma gestures toward her private rooms and Leia approves of them--understated, cool. Just like Phasma herself.

“Can I offer you a refreshment?” Phasma begins maneuvering herself behind a desk, signaling that she did not see this as a social call. Leia appreciated that and drew back her hood. 

“No, thank you. I’m here to talk to you about an important matter, one that I think affects the whole town.”

“And you thought of me? I’m flattered.” But she couldn’t quite keep the snide out of her tone as she sat, her face blank. 

“You know Ben Solo is alive.”

“Yes. He wrote to me from Havana. He was doing me a favor when he left the Artemis and wrote to tell me what happened.” 

Leia paled. She suspected Phasma was aware that Kylo Ren was Ben--Phasma paid well for this information--but was appalled Phasma had the knowledge for years.  

“You’ve known my son has been alive and you didn’t tell me?”Her voice is sharp, strident even. 

“We never have seen eye to eye. And Ben left clear instructions not to let you know. I’m aware that he is targeting Hux and I am glad.” 

“Glad?”

Phasma sighs, pulls out a key and unlocks a drawer. She rummages around before extracting a letter and offering it to Leia. It is browned and wrinkled around the edges, the writing faded. She plucks it from Phasma’s hand and begins to read. It is Ben, explaining to Phasma the situation. 

 

_ I am sorry to tell you that the entire crew died, including Elizabeth. I’m sorry that we could not achieve our goals with her. I had not suspected Hux of this level of treachery. Please accept my condolences on your loss. Burn this letter.  _

 

“I see you kept it,” Leia’s voice is thick, her mind racing to recall any memory of an Elizabeth. 

“Elizabeth was a girl here, but not as a worker. She was 13 when Hux took her and I was unaware. He brutalized her. We tried the police but you understand how that went,” Phasma is cool, her face smooth, betraying nothing. “He kept coming and requesting her and I could not refuse. You know entirely what he is capable of. She could barely move after one session. So I went to Ben. He has helped me move girls south. Girls that caught someone’s attention in an unhealthy way. His plan was to drop her at the Carolinas. But, as you see.” She spreads her hands and Leia can see the grief tightening the skin around her eyes. She had heard that Phasma took exceedingly good care of her girls and she bowed her head in memory of all the lives, all the potential lost.  

“Do you know what Ben’s plans are now?” Leia says after a few moments of silence. Phasma shakes her head. 

“All I know is that there is a rumor that a major shipment for Kylo Ren is coming in tonight, that it is gold or jewels or something fantastic. And I believe Hux knows because a few of his special guards have been walking by the wharves. He needs funds and fast because there is going to be a run on the bank.” 

“I knew investments were failing but not the run.” Leia is embarrassed at how little she knows and vows to revive some of her contacts. She would have paid good information to have this information. 

“Yes, after the last one and the rumor that Snoke has sold his shares, many people are uncertain and are planning on closing accounts tomorrow. It won’t ruin him completely but he will struggle, I imagine.” Phasma gives a small smile, a little bit cruel around the corners and Leia can understand why. 

“Thank you for this information. I am in your debt,” Leia states, standing up and wrapping her cloak back around her. 

“No need for debt. Just agree to have tea with me, maybe lunch, at the new cafe.” Phasma phrases it as a question but Leia hears the command. She quirks her lips up and nods her assent. Phasma escorts her out. “I believe we can do well by each other, Leia.”

“A start of a new friendship,” Leia replies, not sure if she is lying or not. She supposes she will find out. Shaking Phasma’s hand, she hurries down toward the docks. As she turns a corner, she hears a shout and the rapid popping of guns and the air tastes acrid, like gunpowder and copper. She breaks into a run. 

  
  


Finn and Poe believed the plan to be sound. 

Lure Hux to the docks, with the idea that great wealth was being smuggled in and have him get caught in the act of opening chests that did not belong to him and were filled with forged dollars. Well done forgeries but fake nonetheless. The police standing by, ready to seize him. 

They did not count on Hux bringing a private army, Hux whirling around and raising a gun to shoot the police lieutenant in the chest. Blood blossoms on his chest and he slumps forward and his horse bolts, the cry slicing through the air. Kylo had anticipated violence and had summoned his men, his allies made in the islands. Pirates and vagabonds, lowlifes with sharp aims and thirst for gold. Kylo had promised them both and as Hux’s men began to fire on the police, Kylo’s men poured out from the ship, pistols and swords held high. 

Finn and Poe ducked behind a corner, Poe hastily reloading his pistol. Finn glanced quickly around the corner, his chest heaving. 

“We are outnumbered,” he realizes he is shouting, the sound of men’s cries and pistols lighting fill his ears. 

“How is that possible?” Poe cries, peeking around the corner and taking careful aim. Finn is pleasantly surprised that Poe is an excellent shot. Finn jerks back as a bullet cuts too close. Poe darts out to take aim and before he can react, he is on the ground, clutching his chest. 

“Poe!” Finn shouts, dashing to the other side to kneel next to his friend. Poe’s face is wrenched in pain, blood soaks his arm. He has been hit in his shoulder and Finn grabs a handkerchief, telling him to keep pressure on it. 

“Finn! Poe!” Finn is shocked to see Leia Organa running toward them, her back pressed to the wall and even more astonished to see a little six shooter in her hands. “What happened?”

“Poe got shot in the shoulder,” Finn replies, getting up to take his pistol and fire back at Hux’s men, creeping ever closer. “Hux came prepared.” He can hear Hux screaming at the docks, urging his men on, the clash of swords. 

“Let’s get Poe to safety,” Leia orders. “There is an alley around the corner. Come on, I’ll cover you.” And to his complete surprise, Leia crouches beside him and begins firing. Finn’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees her first shot nail someone and he shakes his head, grabbing Poe under the shoulders. Poe screams and Finn swears, apologizing profusely as he helped Poe to his feet, to limp around the corner, Leia coolly firing back. Finn had no idea who the Solos were outside of what Kylo had told him but he was beginning to think they were all insane. 

He is breathing heavily by the time he and Poe collapse against the side of a house, well in the shadows. He helps Poe sit with his back to the brick wall, ties the cloth around his shoulder. 

“I’ll be back. I need to help Leia,” he gasps and Poe nods, his face drawn in pain. Finn jogs down to the end of the alley and glimpses around the corner, hurriedly jerking back as he sees Hux racing down the road, astride a horse, his sword out and a crazed look on his face. Seeing his chance, Finn takes aim and fires. His bullet nicks Hux’s thigh. Hux howls and wheels the horse around, his sword pointed at Finn. 

“You!!! You sniveling little creep!” He roars and two of his men round the corner, guns in hand. Finn steps out further into the light to avoid detection of Poe. Hux’s men grab him roughly and shove him on to his knees in front of Hux.

“What should we do with him sir?” Hux regards Finn imperiously and places his sword tip against Finn’s chin, forcing Finn to tilt his head back. Finn refuses to show him fear, allowing defiance to fill his eyes. 

“Toss him in the jail. He shot one of the men and should hang for murder. I’ll pay a judge to see to that,” Hux sneers. Finn’s heart races and he swallows hard, trying not to shake.  “What of Leia Solo?”

“She escaped sir but it seems as if she was injured.”

“Go, go to her home. Knock down the doors if you must. I want her found and punished.”

“And what about you sir?”

“I am on my way to Rey Solo. I’m going to grab her and the treasure and get the hell out of this place,” Hux crows triumphantly. “Have a few of the men follow me. I don’t want any trouble with that little chit.” He looks at Finn closely, a ruthless smile on his face. “I hope Kylo Ren finds out about this. He’ll lose everything with the run on the bank and who will protect you then?”

“I will protect myself. And Kylo  will stop you,” Finn shoots back. “If not him, Leia or Poe or even Rey herself.” Hux jeers at this and swings his sword down, smacking the bellguard onto Finn’s skull with a resounding crack. Finn slumps to the ground. “Leave the trash there. Someone else will find him,” he orders his men and turns the horse around, slapping its sides with his heels to spur it rapidly out of town. 

The men leave Finn slumped on the ground and rush back to the docks, shouting orders. The night is filled with the sounds of horses thundering north, of men yelling at one another. No one comes for Finn. Finally, once the street is quiet, Leia creeps out from where she is hidden and darts over to check Finn. She murmurs, running her hand over his head. 

“Poe are you okay?” she calls. Poe shambles from the shadows, his face white and tight. 

“I’ll live.” 

Leia directs them to stay and runs to Phasma’s place, pounding on the door. Phasma jerks it open, her eyes widening at Leia’s disheveled hair and blood splattered gown. 

“Hux is leading men to attack my granddaughter and my daughter. Finn and Poe are gravely injured down the road," Leia gets out, her breath caught in her throat. 

“I’ll take care of those two. You take care of your babies,” Phasma promises, yelling for her men. Leia grasps her hand in thanks and Phasma nods, hurrying out, ordering someone to call for a doctor. 

She races down to her apartment, her chest heaving, her feet aching. She sees two of Hux’s goons stalking toward her door and whips out her pistol.

“Halt!” she screams and one turns toward her. Leia raises her gun and aims, taking him down with one well placed shot. His companion is quick to the draw however and Leia is ducking behind a building. She hears two shots ring out, one louder than the other and then silence. Cautiously she peeks around the corner to see Cecil standing stiffly in the doorway, rifle in hand. 

“Cecil!” she cries running up to him. “You are a great shot.”

“These rude gentleman dared to break in here,” Cecil sniffed. “They needed to be taught that one does not take on the house of Organa Solo.” Leia chuckles and sits down, her knees cracking. “My lady, I will draw you a bath. You are in need of medication?” Cecil hovers over her, his voice wavering with concern. Leia holds up a hand. 

“Not yet, there is still much to be done tonight. A glass of Han’s favorite brandy wouldn’t go amiss though,” Leia adds. Cecil straightens and returns a moment later with a tumbler full. Leia takes a deep swallow and leans her head against the doorjamb. She lets her heart slow, her belly warm with the liquor. The air was lightening, the sun beginning to cast light on the horrors of the night, the coolness of the coming dawn wrapping around her ankles. 

Leia climbs to her feet. 

“There’s still work to be done, Cecil. I am going to Rey’s farm and I need a horse.” 

“There are some for rent at the Spouter Inn.”

“Thank you,” she gives him what she hopes is a regal nod before stumbling down the street. She was either more tired or more drunk than she thought and she realizes that she is getting much too old for this. 

“Hang on, baby, I’m coming,” she muttered grimly, praying that Ben and Rey were safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are coming close to the end, my darlings. 
> 
> So this story more or less takes place in the 1840s. Leia would have had a little pea shooter, not quite as we know them, as pin trigger was new to the gun world. Colts were starting to become available with four or five bullets per chamber. Guns then still look widely different but most people were beyond the loading of the bullet and gunpowder.


	18. Tearing at Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux confronts Kylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put 19 chapters, with this being 18, but I may have a total of 20.  
> Sorry for the delay between chapters. I think I got used to posting every day or every other day. But I'm trying to edit more.  
> Also, I was made aware not to write in present tense so this is in past. My faux pas, apparently, although maybe it's all that modernism I'm reading. I'll go back and eventually edit the rest to be in past. 
> 
> Thanks for all your love! I hope you enjoy this one.
> 
> And Happy Mother's day to all those who celebrate, to all the children, to all those who act as mothers.

Rey’s eyes fluttered open as the gray dawn light filtered through her curtains. She was tucked into Kylo’s arms, snug against his broad chest. She ran a finger lightly along the top of his hand, tracing the veins, and up his forearm, barely brushing the hair, thinking about the day ahead: that she needed to muck out Bebe’s stall, that she didn’t know how she was going to introduce Astrid to Kylo, that she forgot how much she missed warmth at her back. 

“Do you always wake this early?” Kylo rumbled groggily. A brief smile flitted across Rey’s face.

“A farmer’s life is a hard one,” she replied primly. He snorted and squeezed her to him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” his voice thick. “But I’m now a man of means, Rey. You don’t have to do it all anymore. We have options.” 

“Options?” she echoed. 

“Yes. I have the townhouse. We can move in there, of course. You can pursue other interests, perhaps assist mother in her work. I know she expects several more grandchildren.”

“But what would I  _ do? _ ” Rey’s brow furrowed. 

“Do? I don’t know. Run the household accounts? Raise the children?” He trailed off as Rey squirmed in his arms, rolling over to face him.

“Kylo,” she began patiently. “I’ve worked my whole life. I’m not giving everything up all my efforts here just because you’ve become wealthy.” Kylo frowned.

“Rey, do you want to stay a farmer?,” he asked, incredulous. He had always promised her more and here he was, delivering it, and she all but refused it. 

“Yes, of course. It’s become a part of who I am, Kylo.” She climbed out of bed, running her fingers through her hair, fanning it across her shoulders, as she padded to the washstand with the wash basin and chipped pitcher. Kylo remembered how it shattered one night when they stumbled into the room, lips attached to one another. The basin had joined several articles of clothes as victims of that night. How Rey had patiently applied adhesive, piece by piece, refusing the thought that he would use their last few dollars to purchase a new one. She was pouring water into the basin, dipping a cloth in, before reaching up to scrub her face. 

Kylo admired her slender form, the muscles bunching under her arms as she scrubbed behind her ears. She was browner than when he left, stronger, sterner. He was falling in love with her again, if possible. Can a husband fall for his wife more than once, he marveled. 

“You said I had to work for you,” he prompted. “What did you mean?” 

“Well, for one, the oak tree next to the house needs a trim.”

“I saw that.”

“Additionally, the furthest fields need to be weeded and turned over and covered so they can heal. Corn drains the land and I need to re-fertilize that area. And, if you want, you could help me by hiring someone for August for the harvest.” Rey was twisting her hair up into a bun while she chatted and Kylo sat up straighter, shaking his head. 

“How does that help me with you?,” he asked, bewildered. Rey pulled on her trousers, frustration evident in her jerky movements. 

“I am my farm, Kylo. I work hard to maintain it, to support myself and my daughter.  You want to spend time with me, court me, know me? You come to me on my terms. You work here. You have dinner with us. Astrid is learning her letters--you teach her. You give her time to learn who you are. And, if things proceed well, I will invite you into my bed. And if we can find ourselves again, I will be your wife.” Her voice is strident, her face unforgiving. Kylo walked over to her and gripped her shoulders. 

“Rey, I love you. You are my whole life.” His throat goes dry as he searches her face. 

“I loved Ben Solo. And I don’t know you. Ben would never have broken those glasses, never have yelled. You’re almost a stranger to me,” Rey whispered. “I was open to the idea of being your lover but you want a wife. You aren’t Ben. I need to know you before I say yes.”

“But you aren’t adverse to the idea.” He needed this hope, he realized, his stomach clenching. 

“No, not at all.” Rey smiled gently and stood on her toes to plant a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. “But give me time.”

“Time with you.”

“Yes, time with me. And Astrid. Because marrying me involves her.” 

“We are already married,” he reminded her gently, tracing his knuckles down her soft cheek. 

“Ben Solo is dead.”

“I can easily declare him alive, darling,” he murmured. She smirked and shook her head. 

“Cheater.” He gave a short laugh at that. He leaned down to kiss her when the sound of rapid hoofbeats gave him pause. He moved her to the side to get to the window and looked down to see a group of men quickly approaching the house. His face turned grim as he recognized the lead rider by his orange shock of hair. 

“Hux is here,” he growled. Rey paused while shrugging on her shirt.  “Do you still have the rifle?” She nodded. 

“Chewie recently oiled it and dropped off some bullets for deer season,” she replied. 

“Good. Get it,” He ordered as he yanked on his boots. His clothes were rumpled but he didn’t care. He clattered down the stairs and stalked toward the door, grabbing his cane before throwing the door open as Hux stopped in front of the porch. “Aldous Hux. Can’t say this is a pleasure.” He was aware that Rey had followed him, staying just behind him. 

Hux ran his eyes over the pair and snorted. “You little slut,” he said without venom. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll forgive you if you just tell me where the treasure is.” Rey stepped back, watching him carefully. 

“She won’t give it to you,” Kylo replied firmly.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Ren,” Hux sneered, leaning forward in his saddle. The rising sun behind him threw him in shadows, illuminated his hair into a flame. Rey shuddered, again edging for the door. 

“It’s unfortunate that you don’t recognize me,” Kylo said, stepping off the porch. “After all our time together as roommates and shipmates.” Hux drew back, shock on his face before narrowing his eyes.

“Solo. I might have known by those ears,” he seethed. “Facial hair does not suit you, I may add.” 

“Not your call to make.” Kylo kept his voice even and pleasant, his hand tight on the cane while eyeing the half dozen men fanning behind Hux. They were burly, each with guns strapped to their thighs, hunger in their eyes. Hux’s private army. Kylo only had a dim idea of what had been promised them. 

“I’m glad you had one last night with your whore wife, Solo. After we’re done here, she’s coming with me and the treasure.” Hux was talking and he drew his pistol, cocking the hammer before aiming it at Kylo. “Tell me where it is.” He pulled the gun to Kylo’s right. “Or Rey will get hurt.”

“You can hardly be sincere in loving me when you’re threatening to shoot me,” Rey snarled. 

“Different forms of love, sweetheart,” Hux crooned, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. “I will show you things that Solo here is afraid of, give you such desire that you will beg me repeatedly for more.” Rey only snorted at that. She had placed the rifle just inside the house, not thinking clearly and now was longing for it to be in her hands. 

“Leave now, Hux, with your dignity intact,” Kylo coolly commanded. 

“My dignity?” Hux cried, jumping off the horse. “You ruined me! There’s going to be a run on the bank! I don’t know but I think you’re behind the lost ships! I’ve lost so many investors. And invested in properties held by friends of yours, Thomas and whoever, and apparently, there was no property there. Lost lost lost!” His voice was full of venom, finally pitching into a shriek at the end when he pulled out his sword with a loud scraping sound. “En garde, you son of a bitch!” He leapt forward, his sword aimed for Kylo’s chest. 

Kylo whipped his rapier blade out of his cane, deftly knocking the blow away before slashing at Hux. Hux backed up a  few steps and they began the deadly dance, Kylo's attention was on his feet placement and dodging Hux’s sword. Hux was an excellent swordsman, often winning fights for money while at university. Kylo was trained by his father, by the sea, by pirates in the Caribbean and cared little for form, only for openings and viciousness. He swung down quickly, nicking Hux’s arm and growled in delight. Hux grunted and darted for Kylo’s midsection. Kylo side stepped him, twirling around to shove his elbow in Hux’s back. Hux stumbled forward before whirling around, fire in his eyes, and charging, his blade raised up. He rained blows on Kylo, whose smaller blade was at best parrying them, Hux’s swift movements not giving him the opening he needed. 

Two of Hux’s men got off their horses and strode toward Rey. 

“Come on sweetheart,” a large blonde man grumbled. “We’ll go really easy on ya if ya just cooperate.” Rey snorted and dashed inside, grabbing the rifle. She slid in two cartridges before walking back out on the porch, her finger poised over the trigger.

“I’m going with no one,” she stated and aimed the rifle at one of the riders before firing. The bullet whizzed by the already jumpy horse who screamed and bolted, his rider clinging desperately to the side. 

Rey turned toward the blonde man who swore and was advancing quickly.

“Back away or I won’t miss this time,” she promised, her voice dark. He barked a laugh. Rey shrugged and fired, the blonde falling to the ground, screeching, his arm around his stomach. Two of the other riders had pulled their horses back, muttering that no payment was worth this and fled. That left two of them for her to deal with and Hux who seemed to be winning, she worriedly noticed. 

“Give me that gun, little girl!” One man lunged for her. Twirling the gun in her hand, Rey shoved the gun's stock into his face. The man staggered back before dropping down and punching her in the knee. Rey cried out and brought the butt of the gun onto his head. He crashed to the floor as she was grabbed behind by another man. 

“I got her!” he cried triumphantly. Rey kicked out and bawled loudly, struggling to pull his fingers away from her. He hoisted her into the air and began to drag her off the porch. 

“Rey!” Kylo called, turning to rush to her. At that moment, Hux glowered in triumph and with a burst of speed, ran his sword through Kylo Ren. Kylo’s eyes widened and he fell to his knees. 

“Ben!” Rey screamed and threw herself forward, shaking side to side, kicking her feet back. Irritated, she threw her head back hard, connecting with the man’s nose and heard a satisfying bone crunch. The man cried out and loosened his arms and Rey darted out. She turned to kick him in the groin and as he fell, she made a fist and punched hard into his already broken nose. The man slumped to the ground. 

Rey dashed toward Kylo.  Hux was chuckling, putting his foot on Kylo’s back and shoving him forward as he wrenched his sword out of Kylo’s side. Kylo instinctively placed his hands on his gushing wound on his gut. Rey slid onto the ground next to him, cradling him.

“Keep pressure on it, my love,” she said, tears in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,”he replied, his voice weak, his eyes dazed. Rey sobbed and looked up at Hux, grinning victoriously at her. His hair was wild, a bruise growing under his chin, his clothes dis-shelved and stained in sweat. 

“The treasure,” he demanded. Rey ignored him, ripping off her shirt sleeves, wadding them up, and pressing them on Kylo’s wound. 

“Keep still,” she murmured. “I’m going to murder this bastard.” She picked up Kylo’s blade from where he dropped it and faced Hux, her face forbidding. 

“You?” Hux laughed at her. Rey flicked the sword near his face, opening a thin line on his cheek. A droplet of blood oozed out of the tear and Hux lifted a hand up, his eyes agog. “Bitch.” Rey bowed at that, her eyes mocking and the battle began in earnest. 

Hux had the finesse but he was no match for Rey’s ferocity. Her years on the street had given her experience with fighting for her life. Han had taken it upon himself to show her how to punch, how to kick, and Leia had told her to always carry a knife on her. Rey had one in her belt at her back and as Hux slashed toward her, she turned to her side, his blade slicing narrowly past her. She kicked hard, catching Hux in the hips. He snarled in pain before scrambling back. As he ran toward her, his blade out, Rey parried, stepped aside and calmly jabbed her elbow into his face. He stumbled, crying out, his hand going to his nose. Without thinking, Rey pulled the knife out from her back and threw. The knife embedded itself below his right shoulder. Hux howled and Rey advanced, swinging her blade ruthlessly. 

Hux, preoccupied with pain rippling up his back, was gasping as he knocked away her blade. He could feel blood moving around the knife and each movement caused it to dig further into his back. Rey’s face was a mask of cold fury, each step bringing him doom, he realized. 

“Rey, please,” he gasped. “We can talk about this.”

“We have been talking about it. And the answer is no.” Her voice is emotionless. He bellowed and ran forward, catching her wrist and holding her sword in the air. Rey moved to punch him and he dropped his sword to grab her fist. He leaned forward, putting more stress on the back, pulsing pain. Rey screamed at him and threw her head forward, knocking him back. She grasped her head in pain and stumbled away as he fell to the ground. The knife blade broke off as he hit the ground and rolled over. 

Rey lurched toward her sword and picked it up, her body gleaming with sweat. She laid the point against Hux’s throat. 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” she panted. 

“You’ll go to jail?,” he offered and Rey barked a harsh laugh. 

“Not good enough,” she forced out. She pressed down on the blade, drawing a bead of blood. Hux panicked. 

“Please Rey, I’ll do anything, anything,” he pleaded. 

“Leave. And never come back,” she ordered. 

“Yes, yes, leave and never come back, of course,” he promised, relief flooding his system. Rey gazed at him with hooded eyes, drawing the blade across his throat, cutting through the thinnest layer of skin. Blood welled up along the line. A reminder scratch really, she thought. 

“A token of my love,” she whispered darkly. Hux scooted away from her, scrambling to his feet. He turned and limped away. His horse had run off with the others and he had nowhere to go but on his feet, his back throbbing in pain, his head aching, bruises blooming on his skin. But alive. He was alive. He could feel Rey’s glare burning him as he staggered down to the road. As he turned the corner, he leapt back as a horse reared up. He paled when he saw the rider. 

“Leia,” he breathed. She smirked and leveled a pistol at him.

“Hux. We meet again.” He reached instinctively for his pistol on his side but Leia was quicker. Hux slumped to the ground, moaning. Leia had shot him in his arm. She followed up with another one in his thigh. 

“That’ll keep you until the authorities arrive,” she said pleased, pushing her horse forward. Her eyes widened at the evidence of a fight, a man slumbering on the porch, another crawling away on all fours, Rey kneeling on the ground, Kylo’s head in her lap. Her heart picking up, Leia slid off her horse and jogged toward the couple. She could see Kylo’s shirt was soaked in blood, his face pale. Rey looked up at her, tears cutting through the dirt on her cheeks. 

“Oh, Leia,” she sobbed. Leia felt her knees give out from beneath her and she sat next to Rey, holding Kylo’s limp hand in her own. She could hear the hoofs pounding behind her, the cavalry at last. 

  
But too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry.


	19. A Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ring is a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse all of the errors. I am leaving for vacation Tuesday so I'm hustling.  
> Yep, it will take two more chapters to tie things up. Sorry!  
> Thank you for reading.

Leia directed the clean up, the police officer nodding intently as he scribbled down her every word. She knew keeping busy was her only recourse, to stop the panic, to stop the shaking. She gave her thanks to the officer before heading inside, picking up clothes, and wiping blood off the floor. Maz walked out of the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hand. 

“Rest your feet,” Maz said softly, guiding Leia to a chair and pressing the tea into her hand. “Working yourself to the bone won’t help her.”

“But it will help me,” Leia admitted before taking a small sip, feeling the warmth settle in her belly. She was exhausted, her very bones weary as if every bit of her had been drained away. She leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes. She felt every day she ever lived in that moment, felt them pressing on her with dry stale breath. She missed Han deeply in that moment. 

“When did I get so old?” she grunted. Maz placed a sandwich next to the chair and took the seat across from Leia, requiring a small hop to sit comfortably.  Leia took a few bites when a knock at the door caused her head to jerk up. 

“Sit. Eat,” Maz commanded, sliding out of the chair and grumbling while doing so, to answer the door.

“Telegram for Leia Organa Solo,” chirped a young voice. 

“I’ll take it,” Maz replied, reaching into her pocket for a few coins for the boy. She stumped back to the chair, Leia sitting anxiously with her hand on her heart. She ripped it open: ON MY WAY STOP PINKERTON AGENCY SECURE STOP WILL ARRIVE FROM BOSTON TONIGHT STOP LUKE 

She blew out her breath and slouched in the chair. 

“Good news?” Maz inquired casually but Leia could tell from her worried face that she was deeply concerned. She passed over the telegram and Maz grunted as she read it.  “Good. That’ll keep the judge worried.”

“Yes, maybe even bring in one frpm Boston or New Haven,” Leia murmured.  With Luke’s imminent arrival, today’s events began to take their toll. She rested her head against the wing of the chair and began to weep. Maz was up in an instant, gripping her hand tightly. 

“It’ll be alright, Leia. It’s over now,” Maz crooned. 

“My Ben!” Leia cried, her cheeks wet, her throat closing. 

“Hush now, child. The doctor already said Ben would live if he passed through his fever tonight. Rey is with him now. He’s got much to live for.” Leia hiccuped, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

“Did you see she put the ring back on?” Leia asked, puzzled. Maz nodded gravely. 

“We saw all of his scars when we were undressing him with the doctor, Leia. The boy has been through a lot. Rey’s got a tender heart, despite it all.”

“Well, tender for a few,” Leia retorted dryly.  Chewie stomped into the room, shaking his long brown hair and growling a hello at the two women. Maz jerked her head back, indicating food and coffee in the kitchen. A few moments later, Chewie rejoined them, sandwich in one hand, coffee in the other. 

“Judge Pyncheon has declared Ben Solo alive again,” he began. “So the rest of the town is now aware. Poe is recovering. The doctor declared bed rest for a week or two. The bullet just grazed his shoulder. No infection. Finn was badly hurt but good prognosis. I paid the doctor on your behalf, Leia.” Maz’s mouth tightened as she listened to Chewie, her hand still in Leia’s.

“And Hux?” she prompted.

“He may not make it,” Chewie admitted, his eyes fastening on Leia. “The judge has not decided who to charge with his murder if he does not survive.”

“Murder!” Leia exclaimed. “After what he did to my son?”

“Some of it depends on whether Ben Solo lives or not. If he lives, you or Rey, or both, may get arraigned. If Ben dies,” Chewie shrugged helplessly. Maz growled. Leia just shook her head.

“Luke will be here soon. Between him and the Pinkertons, we will resolve this situation.”

“Phasma has already gone to the sheriff. She had daguerreotypes of what Hux did to those women. The police were not interested. When I ran into her, she said she would go to the papers. Someone will be interested.”

“I’ll help her pay to publish them,” Leia murmured. “We have more than enough evidence on our side. We have been battling corruption in this town long enough. The First Order is now owned by my son. Together, he and I will stop these ridiculous arguments and no one will be imprisoned.” She tilted her head imperiously. Even with smudges on her cheeks, dark circles under her eyes, Leia was regal. 

“Well, you have one less obstacle,” Chewie added, shoving the last bit of sandwich in his mouth. “Snoke was found dead this morning. Suicide.” 

“I imagine they will make that our fault,” Leia responded wryly and Maz snorted.

“You think with all of the resentment toward the First Order, the judge would be a little less hasty to condemn two widows defending their lives and land,” Maz muttered darkly. 

“Out of our hands again,” Leia said ruefully. ”I hear there is a movement to give women the right to vote and quite frankly, I’m willing to send them the whole Organa fortune if it would help.”

“Women get the vote? God help us all,” Chewie teased. “I’m headed back to the farm. Maz, sweetheart?”

“I’ll stay a little while longer,” she waved him away. With a quick hug, Chewie left the two women. Leia sighed and settled back into her chair. She let her eyes drift close, to consider possibilities, but found herself falling into a deep slumber. Maz draped a blanket over her and went into the kitchen to clean up.

Rey came stumbling down the stairs a few moments later, taking in an exhausted Leia.  She rubbed her own eyes, feeling the need to drop into a bed and sleep for days. She wandered into the kitchen and Maz took one look at her before pointing to the coffee pot. Rey gasped her thanks and poured herself a mug, downing it in one gulp. Maz slid a plate in front of her as well.

“Eat up,” she ordered. Rey needed no further encouragement, digging into the rabbit stew left from last night. 

“Ben is lucky that Hux seemed to miss the most vital organs,” Maz began briskly. “Chewie just left but he checked on Astrid and she is safe with Cecil. Apparently gorging herself on candy.” Rey just shook her head, blowing on her soup. 

“You need to rest, dear.” Maz came up beside her. “You’ve had a long day.”

“I’m afraid if I sleep, I’ll lose Ben again.”

“Ben or Kylo?” Maz mused. “I don’t really see him as Ben anymore. He’s developed a sort of cosmopolitan air that Ben never had, wild boy that he was.” Rey chuckled before letting herself sag against the table, her shoulders slump. Her full belly pulled her closer to sleep. 

Rey looked at her hands, at the blood under the fingernails and grimaced. She almost killed several men today. She realized her hands were shaking and she started sobbing in earnest. 

“Now, now, sweetheart. You only did what you thought was necessary,” Maz soothed her, rubbing her arms. She was too short to give Rey a proper hug. Rey gulped in air and ran her hand down her face.

“I need to check on Kylo." She was adamant. She was done crying, she hoped. She had no more tears to give. 

“I’ve got water boiling now so you can change his cloths,” Maz replied. Rey gathered the items, planted a kiss on Maz’s forehead, and headed back upstairs.  

Kylo was asleep on the bed, his cheeks a pale pink, his breathing even. The blade had pierced him through his sides, narrowly missing a kidney, the doctor had remarked. Rey sat gingerly on the bed and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. Warm but not hot. A hopeful sign.She began to wipe away the blood on Kylo’s body. Maz was right, she thought, as she worked. To her, he was Kylo.  Ben was a distant memory. She needed to know who was in front of her now.  

She looked down at the ring she had slid on her finger. When she and Chewie had carried Kylo upstairs, the doctor had ordered them to strip him of clothing. Rey had gasped when she saw the rest of Kylo’s body. His legs were roped in knotty scar tissue; his left leg looked as if a bite had been taken out of it, the skin red and angry. She knew Ben had scars from being a sailor; this body before her was unfamiliar, a testament to a life of pain, of harsh conditions that she could only guess at. 

 

He had only told her a portion of what happened, she thought. 

She was angry that he thought he would still protect her. 

She was heartbroken at the sight of the broken body before her.

The man who still loved her. 

 

Rey was planning on giving Kylo a chance. She didn’t expect her heart to ache at seeing him lie there, his chest heaving, blood splattered, his eyes glazed, sweat covering him. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned around to grasp at the ring on the bureau, to slide it back on her finger. A promise. 

She hummed as she swabbed at the blood caked on his shoulder. She was unaware of the tear coursing down her cheek until Kylo spoke up, his voice dry and quiet. 

“Why the tears, darling?” 

Rey exclaimed in delight and turned to see him smiling faintly at her. 

“You’re awake,” she murmured in relief, reaching out a hesitant hand to push a stray lock of hair off his face. He made a noise and turned his face to her palm, giving her a small peck. 

“I feel like death warmed over,” he said frankly and she huffed. 

“I imagine so. The doctor said you were lucky, that you should fully recover in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?,” he cried out. “What about Hux?!” Rey blushed and looked down.

“Uh, well, he’s been taken care of. Leia sent a telegram to Luke and he’s called in some favors with the Pinkerton men who may be coming in to clear things up.” Rey ran a cloth through the water and dabbed at the dirt on Kylo’s hand, scrubbing at the build up under his nails. “You are filthy.”

“I nearly died,” he complained. “Your bedside manner could use some work.” She glared at him and continued to bathe him, cautiously cleaning his chest. He watched her with sleepy eyes until he caught her hand and held it up.

“Was I asleep long enough that you got married?” Rey cleared her throat and felt her cheeks redden.

“I’m already married.”

“To whom?”A teasing lilt to his voice. Rey rolled her eyes and leaned over to kiss him. 

“To you,” she whispered. She sat back up, grimacing at the smug expression on his face. “But you’ve got a lot of work to do still to earn this privilege, Kylo Ren.” He smiled softly at her, rubbing circles in the palm of her hand. 

“Whatever it takes, Rey. I promise,” his voice husky. He kissed her hand and Rey felt her heart flutter. Sniffing, she turned from him to place the cloth back in the basin and closed her eyes, a smile hovering around her lips. “Come to bed. You look exhausted.”

Without thinking, Rey stood up and stumbled to the other side of the bed, slipping in next to him. He laced his fingers through her hand and in a moment, she was fast asleep with Kylo snoring softly next to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm fudging the timeline with the Pinkertons since they weren't founded until the late 1850s and this is pretty securely set in the 1840s. But policing in the early 19th century was just starting to become professionalized. Police were not necessarily paid by the state so they could be volunteer forces or paid by the wealthiest person which meant they protected their interests. There was no national police force, no FBI, to step in when local corruption rendered the local population at complete mercy of the police force. 
> 
> The Pinkertons were formed as a private detective agency and a security force. Supposedly they stopped an assassination attempt on President Lincoln. They are often framed as the bad guys in the Jesse James stories as they were hired to stop him from robbing trains.
> 
> Luke calling them in would only serve to ensure that the Organa Solos are being protected and that some sort of justice was served. The Pinkertons, however, were not above going outside the law to get things done. They were often used in the late 19th century as union breakers. They still exist today as a private security firm.
> 
> *******
> 
> Finn woke up, coughing hard before a glass is shoved against his lip and water trickling down his throat. It takes him a moment to realize what is happening before he swallows. He pushes it away, turning his head to see Poe Dameron, his arm in a sling, his lip split.   
> "Poe?" He whispered roughly.  
> "Finn, you're going to be okay," Poe smiled, putting his hand on Finn's shoulder and squeezing. Finn reached up to hold it, resting his back on the pillows. Poe dove into describing what happened. Finn cheered when he heard Rey had taken down Hux, frowned when he heard Kylo was injured.   
> "That man," he shook his head ruefully. "He will never learn."They sit in silence for a moment, Poe running his thumb over Finn's knuckles. Finn looked up at him shyly through his lashes.   
> "Poe, do you want to take a vacation? Get away from this town?" Poe sat up and nodded eagerly. "Good. I haven't seen my mother and since I have half of the Cortes treasure...."  
> "I always wanted to be married to a rich man," Poe teased, his eyes light before leaning forward and kissing Finn on the mouth. Finn smiled against his lips, wrapping his arm around Poe's waist and pulling him into bed with him. He rested his head on Poe's chest, listening to the man breath, while Poe ran his hand up and down Finn's arm before they both drifted to sleep. 
> 
> No place for it but in the notes!


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo get hitched, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo long, I'm sorry to say, but things to wrap up (and I'm not even sure if I got them all well). 
> 
> Thank you for the ride. It's been fun.  
> And yeah that's right, Claudia Gray. I'll give Leia a happy ending.

Kylo Ren was a frustrating patient. He whine, he pouted, fussed over the the smallest thing. Sent Rey running between steps, constantly trying to catch her breath,wiping sweat off her brow, scurrying between the farm and her room, which he absconded, upstairs. Rey started to call him princess and one morning dropped to her knees to inspect the bed. Kylo was propped up against the headboard, awaiting his daily dressing change. 

“What are you doing?” he snarled. 

“Looking for the pea disturbing your slumber, your highness,” she snapped back. 

 

The first few days, Kylo had floated in and out of consciousness, a fever raging through his body. Rey and Leia had hovered over him, administering elderberry and peppermint, cleaning his wound, draping cold cloths on him. His fever had broken one night while Rey had crashed in the rocking chair, her neck aching  but relief flooding through her when she laid her palm on his cool forehead. 

A relief she was regretting, she seethed, as he complained her sheets were too rough. By the end of the week, he was grabbing at Rey, holding her hand a beat too long, kissing her fingers, much to her irritation. One moment he was wooing her; the next ordering her to bring him some more tea. 

 

He would flip idly through books to occupy his time, read various newspapers, review his bank accounts. He held meetings with First Order men in the afternoon, Rey bustling around the house to make sure all had drinks and hors oeuvres. During the second week, the doctor returned and poked and prodded the stitches. Kylo bit back a cry. The skin was raw and tender. 

 

The doctor pronounced the worst over. Rey beamed at that and immediately inquired when Kylo could get to work. The doctor had hemmed and hawed, rubbing his chin, flicking his gaze between an eager Rey and a balking Kylo. 

“Another week of rest, and walking around a bit, Mrs. Solo. Then you can put your husband to work.”

“More like out to pasture,” Rey snarled. “And he’s not my---” Kylo placed his hand over her mouth, smiling at the doctor, shrugging casually as if to say  _ women. _

“Thank you doctor,” he interjected smoothly. Rey rolled her eyes. “I am in your debt. Please send your bill. I hear you like Corellian brandy? I will have a bottle of my finest vintage sent to your home with my compliments.” Rey scrunched her face in protest but the doctor winked at Kylo before doffing his hat and trundling down the stairs. Rey shot Kylo a cold glare before pushing him away. 

“You want to convalesce? So rest!,” she sneered. “Some of us have work to do.”

“So you keep saying, my darling. Do you think you could bring me some tea before you go out to the fields? I’m famished too. So weary recovering,” Kylo drawled, dropping into the bed. Rey fumed, stomping down the stairs, then stomping back up, banging the tray on the table and sloshing tea. 

“Here you go, princess,” she growled. 

“Can you plump my pillows?” Kylo weakly protested. Rey sighed and reached out to fix them when Kylo wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her on him, grinning wickedly. Rey swore and Kylo’s eyebrows lifted.

“I think I need to teach that filthy mouth a lesson,” he murmured, running his thumb over her lower lip. Rey opened her mouth and delightedly he slipped it in before she bit down on it, her eyes gleaming darkly. Kylo yelped. 

“Oh come on Rey!” he said sullenly. Rey climbed out of his bed and fluffed his pillows. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I don’t have time for anything else,” Rey purred.  Kylo’s mouth dropped open as he watched Rey sashay out of the room. 

 

Strangely there was never any question of Kylo moving out and that same night, Rey climbed into bed next to him, sighing peacefully as he draped one arm across her. Too long without comfort, she was afraid to wake up alone again. Too long without a man near her, she was unsure of what to do with the heat simmering beneath her skin, lighting up with each touch, each casual caress. His arm around her at night burning into her skin. She was afraid to let him go further; she couldn’t wait to go further. She knew that she didn’t know how to be a wife anymore. It seemed, she thought grimly, Kylo was trying to teach her by ordering her about and she intensely disliked it. She was used to being her own mistress only. 

 

The next day, Rey walked toward the house, a basket of eggs in one hand, a pail of goat milk in another. As she neared the front of the house, her eyes widened at the sight of a line of teenaged girls and boys standing patiently in line. She stormed into the house and was surprised to see Kylo sitting at the kitchen table, a fountain pen in one hand, a sheaf of papers in front of him. 

“Excellent, Miss Jones. And to your prior employment?” he asked, pen poised to scribbled. He saw Rey’s furrowed brow, her lips a thin line, her jaw jutting forward--her wounded pride. He swallowed hastily, thinking he might have been a bit too hasty in his plot to help his wife. Rey saw him swallow and thought it was lucky that she was once married to him; she knew that quirk of eyebrows as nervousness. 

“What is this?” she demanded. The lanky adolescent in the chair shrank back and Rey winced. “Excuse me. May I speak with you outside?” she tried again. Kylo beckoned her forward and she handed him his cane and bent her shoulder to him as he slowly stood, leaning his weight on her. Slowly they stumped outside where Kylo leaned tiredly against a porch post.

“You’ve been working hard. I’m here to help,” he said expansively. She frowned. 

“By hiring people.”

“You work too hard. You don’t need to anymore. I’m a wealthy man. Many of these people must find work here or go back to the docks and you know what future that means,” he replied quietly. “And you’re exhausted. You’ve been passing out most days.” 

“You keep me running back and forth!” Rey cried, waving her hands at him, walking agitatedly back and forth.  

“Because I hope that you would take a moment to have a cup of tea and chat with your husband. A man you wanted to take as a lover. But instead you flee as if I have the plague.” His voice was low, his eyes on the floor. Rey stopped her pacing and stared, guilt creeping up on her. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m just not ready. Not yet.”

“You have all the time you need, Rey,” Kylo said, reaching for her hand and gripping it tightly. He ran a finger down her cheek, tracing the curve of her cheek, his eyes full of promise. Rey took a faltering step back. The heat under her skin bloomed under his touch and she was sure her face was scarlet. 

“You can’t buy me,” she whispered.

“It’s not buying. It’s ours. And we’ve more than enough,” he sighed exasperatedly. “It’s just some help.” Rey said nothing, only offered her arm to lead him back to the table, her face troubled. 

 

She didn’t believe in everlasting wealth. She didn’t believe it was truly hers. She understood how wealth worked--scraps of papers in banks. Earth, dirt--tangible, real evidence. 

 

Kylo ended up hiring three people--one cleaner for the house three times a week and two hands to help Rey,although one to was to be devoted to Kylo’s gelding now permanently in her stables in a stall next to Bebe. 

 

Rey felt as if she were losing her home. Her closet, now crowded with Kylo’s many silken shirts and fine cut trousers, his kidskin boots cuddled next to her old leather ones. A shaving kit had appeared on her bureau. She found herself cooking more to satisfy a family’s appetite, not two, or perhaps, three women. She wondered if there would be enough to last them through the winter. 

Astrid took to Kylo like a duck to water. He let her climb all over him, snuggle into his chest sitting on his lap while his quiet voice told her grand tales of King Arthur and his knights, of her grandfather Anakin Skywalker who defeated the British Empire at Bunker Hill, soothing her with stories of a little mermaid, of swan princesses. He kept candy in his pockets for her and she knew just when to rummage through them, much to Rey’s dismay. Soon the shrieks of “Daddy!” seemed natural. 

 

Saddling his horse, Rey trotted down to his townhouse after receiving a missive from Finn. Two wagons stood out front. Men moved back in forth, loading trunks and pieces of furniture. 

“Good morning, Mrs Solo,” one swarthy man called. She waved at him  and heard him mutter as she passed: “Old Ben Solo ain’t doing his job right if she’s up and about. Must have received some cold welcome.” 

“She killed a man,” another hissed. 

“Hux wasn’t no man,” the other retorted. “Did you see what he did to those women?” 

Rey shuddered. Luke had found more than enough evidence to exonerate her but she hadn’t run the stall in town for weeks now, people rushing past, averting eyes, whispering. Her final day Luke had come to stand beside her, his beard long, his eyes sad. He told her the judge had dismissed the charges. That afternoon, Rey had sold all of her vegetables and her fruit pies. The trickle of people had yet to stop, now at her home, dropping in to see Ben Solo, pay their respects, leave some sort of token, hear news of their family. Rey had walked in, sweaty and dirt covered, one afternoon to see one woman sobbing, Kylo grief stricken. Little Alex Michaels’s mother. 

Rey shook her head to clear her mind as she entered the dark house. She was surprised to see cloths draped over the furniture. She heard feet thundering down the stairs and turned to see Finn walking briskly toward her. 

“Rey, thank you for coming,” he greeted, giving her a brief hug. Rey grinned at him. 

“You left Kylo with me. You deserve a fight for that.” Finn shuddered and refused to look guilty. “He does not take being injured well. What did you bring me here for?”

“This is my house per my agreement with Kylo” He kept his eyes on her and she made a noncommittal noise. “I’m leaving for Jamaica for my family tonight. Poe is accompanying me. Certain items belonging to Kylo Ren are heading to your home. But there is one thing I need to show you that cannot go up there. ” 

“Why not?” Rey was curious as Finn gestured of her to follow him, pulling out a ring of three keys. He used the first to open a cellar door, pointing for her to take down an oil lamp. Rey stepped quickly after him down the narrow stairs as he unlocked another door then another. He entered a dark dank smelling room, turning to his right and striking a match. Rey waited while he lit a few lamps and then inhaled sharply. 

The room was filled with over a dozen chests, broad and deep. 

“The treasure of Cortes,” Finn stated. “Now half of these are mine except this small black one has been designated for you.” Rey fell to her knees and opened one chest to see rows of gold bars gleaming darkly. 

“I had the pieces of eight melted into gold bars. People ask less questions,” Finn explained. Rey turned to her left to lift the lid of the small chest and gasped. 

“Oh dear sweet Jesus, I’m rich,” she stuttered in awe. Winking in the light were diamonds, sapphires, opals. She lifted out a gold necklace, decorative squares linked together with large emeralds dripping from it. It pulled her hands down with its weight, thick and heavy in her hands. 

“Kylo and I re-wrote his will and we have documents to show half of these assets are legally yours. Regardless of if you choose to stay married to him. Half of his half is yours. They are stored at both banks. Your accounts also include his name. He didn’t want you to feel as if you had to go through him to access your funds.” She turned to him, her eyes wide, her mind racing. 

“Do you have any jewels?” she asked, feeling stupid. Finn flashed her a smile. 

“Yes, I took the uncut ones. Although that pearl necklace you’re currently holding would look lovely on my mother.” Feeling dull, Rey handed it to him. Small pearls with sapphires interspersed, rich, creamy. She cursed her slow brain. Finn tossed her the keys. “Congratulations. You are the wealthiest farmer in America.” 

 

Rey rode home in the falling darkness in a daze. She had stopped by the bank and a clerk confirmed she had her own accounts, that she was a co-signer on Ben Solo’s accounts. To feel confident, she withdrew one hundred dollars and the clerk signed it to her without batting an eye. 

 

She was rich.

She would never need to worry again. 

Astrid would never go hungry or pain or suffer through the misfortune of a poor education. 

She was secure. Her home could not be taken away. 

 

He heart sped up as she choked on her tears. Kylo gave her the one thing she worked tirelessly for each day. Security. She was secure. Tangible. Not just notes but hard solid gold. She knew what the gift, the signing over half to her and her alone meant and she felt free. 

 

She walked into the house, her brow furrowing to see the rooms dark, lit only by a few candles, a spicy warm scent assaulting her. She entered the kitchen to see Kylo moving between pots, concentration forming a line between his eyebrows. He looked up and saw her face and paused. He had shaved off his beard, Rey noted confusedly, looking into a face far closer to Ben Solo’s than she remembered. 

“Rey, darling, what’s wrong?” He asked gently. She shook her head, the tears free falling down her cheeks and he dropped his towel to wrap his arms around her. “What is it?” He kissed the top of her head. 

“Do you really want to stay my husband?” she sobbed. Kylo stared down at her in confusion. 

“Of course. I did everything--well almost everything--for you. I’ve never experience this level of happiness the last few weeks with you and Astrid. I didn’t know happiness could be found at a simple dinner.” She squeezed her arms around his waist and wept into his chest. He reached down to wipe away her tears, tucking her hair back. 

“Don’t leave me,” she entreated. “Don’t go back to the sea.” Kylo stilled and she sniffed, terrified she was ruining everything. He would only leave things to her, she reasoned, if he were planning to leave again. 

“I won’t. Uncle Luke was here earlier. I am going to study to be a lawyer, with a friend of his. We’ll do it mostly as correspondence. I may need to go to Harvard for a few things,” Kylo admitted. A sob wracked Rey’s body and she shuddered. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her back. “Rey what is it?”

Rey pushed herself up to her very toes and pressed her lips against his. He remained still under her, his eyes widening as she continued to kiss him. Groaning, Kylo cupped her face between his hands and flicked his tongue at her lips, eagerly parting them, his tongue tangling in hers, gently, testing. 

“Rey, if we start,” he warned before gulping hard as Rey began to tear open his shirt. 

“Don’t leave me again, Kylo,” she whispered into the corner of his mouth. 

“Never,” he promised, tightening his arms around her and picking her up to place her on the kitchen table. She was running her hands under his shirt and he pressed her hand against his groin, hearing her moan. It had been too long. She tasted of coffee, of tears, and courage, his Rey, his sensible Rey. 

“Mine,” he ghosted along her jaw. 

“Mine,” she rejoined, bring his mouth back to hers. Her hands sped his broad shoulders kneading his muscles. He followed suit, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of the gentle swell of her hips, the curve of her breasts. Her kisses intoxicated him and he found himself rocking his hips against hers, chanting her name against her neck. She was wearing too many damn clothes. His mouth was slowly devouring hers, slowly pressing her down on to the table, one of her legs locked around his hips when a hissing noise caught his attention. 

“The pot,” she murmured and gave a gasp as he with a groan pulled away to take the pot off the stove. He stoked to the stove to put it to bed, thinking about putting Rey to bed. 

Rey was sitting up, her hair mussed, her lips swollen. He felt his heart stutter. Her eyes were drinking in his open shirt, his scars, the muscle still visible underneath this skin. 

“Upstairs,” she commanded hoarsely and he swore. Scooping her up with one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back he practically sprinted up the stairs, feeling his wound protest a bit as he dropped her on the bed, immediately covering her body with his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her mouth eagerly opened for him. 

Mine _ , _ he thought. 

All mine, she whispered, running her hands down his hips, over his tight ass, and over to the button on his trousers. In a moment, his cock sprang free and she inhaled quickly, feeling her heart pick up. The heat constantly simmering under her skin the last week weeks began to turn into a smoldering fire, as he stripped her of her shirt, made short work of her skirt. 

“Don’t rip my chemise.” In response, he ripped it off and tossed the scraps on the floor. 

“I’ll order you a dozen more,” he said working his way down her body, one hand covering her breast, massaging it, his knees nudging her legs apart. “Although I would prefer your radiant naked body to you covered.” Rey giggled.

“Other men might see me,” she whispered playfully, arching to angle her breast for his mouth. He took her cue and flicked his tongue over her nipple and she exhaled shakily. 

“I’ll kill them. Or better yet, I’ll lock you up in here,” he snarled around the nipple in his mouth. She was panting now and felt his hand glide down to her thigh, massaging her, one curious finger running along her wet slit. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. Rey shivered, feeling the heat rushing through her bloodstream as he suckled the underside of her breast, as he lazily circled her clit, his fingers touching and teasing her folds. She felt his groan, him rubbing his cock against her leg.

“Lie on your back,” she ordered and felt a twinge of disappointment as he rolled away, her body bereft of his touch. She’d been aching to kiss his chest for week and took advantage of his open posture to lavish his scars with attention, running her tongue over the shiny tissue, licking his nipples so that Kylo was moaning her name loudly, his eyes glazed with lust. 

She worked her way down his chest until, after a quick look at his dreamy face, she licked the head of his cock. Kylo grunted and, giggling, Rey did it again, a quick flit across the top before slowly dragging her tongue along the side of him. She let her teeth scrape gently against him as she worked her way back up to his head. She then moved over the top and took the whole of him in her mouth, sucking hard. Kylo almost yelped and he grabbed at her hair wildly, his hips bucking under her. A thrill ran down Rey’s spine as he jerked with each time she moved down him, his little cries of pleasure emboldening her to wrap her fingers around him and pump him as she gave more attention to the sensitive head. 

“Rey, stop,” Kylo exclaimed, pushing her off suddenly as he sat up. “I’m not ready yet for this to end.” Rey gave him a wicked smile, standing up and stretching before him, feeling his eyes on her body. “Where did you learn that?” His voice was cautious, he was running his hand through his hair, almost not looking at her. Rey smirked. 

“Phasma has quite the collection of erotica,” she murmured before crawling over him, taking his mouth with hers. Kylo grabbed her and rolled her onto her back, hungrily kissing her back, his hand between her legs, moving quicker this time, Rey rocking her hips to encourage him, moaning against his chest. He rubbed his thumb over her clit, sending shivers through her, one finger sliding into her, pressing against her walls and she was eager for it, her eyes closed. He followed it with another finger as she felt the heat growing between her thighs, down her legs, heavy in her belly as she was gasping loudly and then she was over, her vision whitening as she slumped into the bed. 

In a moment, he was on top of her, nudging her knees apart and she felt him at her entrance. She slitted her eyes open to see him looking at her nervously and she gave him a slow smile. Kylo returned it with a slow and sweet kiss as he pressed himself into her. Rey sighed luxuriously as she moved her hips, relishing the fullness of him in her. 

“Too damn long,” she swore. He was panting, moving faster and she grabbed his hips, matching his frantic pace with her own, the heat building again, his breath hot against her face, her breathing ragged. She arched against him, digging her heels into the mattress as she found the right spot, begging for him to keep going, Kylo moving roughly into her until at least she fell over, her legs shaking, clenching around him. He followed a moment later, collapsing on her with a grunt. They lay entwined, Rey feeling his heart crashing against his ribs, hers bursting as well. 

“So now are you going to tell me what that was about?” Kylo managed to ask as he slid out of her and rolled to the side, his arms akimbo. 

“Finn showed me the treasure, showed me the documents. You gave me what I have always wanted. Freedom. I’ve always worried about the next meal--is it coming, will there be enough for tomorrow, will I make it through winter. And now, i don’t need to do that. And you gave me a choice.”

“Was it a choice? To be with me?” She could hear the fear in his words.

“No. I was always afraid that you would choose the sea over me.” Kylo shook his head and pulled her to him, reaching down for the quilt to cover them. 

“It was never a question to me of what to choose. I am yours, Rey,” Kylo murmured against her temple drowsily. 

“They didn’t even question me at the bank,” she marveled lifting her face up to his. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“So what you're saying is, you’re going to me again for my money.”

“That and your body,” she teased. Kylo shrugged.

“Eh, I’ll take what I can get.” 

 

_ Three Months Later…….. _

 

Rey fussed one last time over her gown, the many frills and bows, before sighing and pulling her bouquet next to her chest, the sweet smell of the linden blossoms and sweet pea cloying in the small room. She nodded at Astrid who winked and began marching forward down the aisle, flinging petals in the air, Rey following at a steady march, allowing her eyes to travel over the people gathered in the church. 

Leia stood near the front, her fingers laced through the hand of her gentleman friend, Ransolm Casterfo. A very handsome gentleman friend, Kylo had sarcastically retorted and had shrank back when Leia had turned to stare at him. 

Finn and Pie grinned like fools, resplendent in the latest Parisian fashions. Finn’s mother had returned with him, radiant in lilac, a knowing smile on her lips as she observed Finn and Poe. 

Maz and Chewie were sharing a kiss before turning to smile at Rey, Maz reaching up to wipe away one of her tears. 

Phasma stood at the altar, Rey’s matron of honor, across the way from Kylo Ren. He had legally changed his name, eager to start again. A law student already earning renown for his remarks on maritime law. A patron, sponsoring Alex Michaels’s little brother through school. A compassionate but intemperate chief officer of First Order bank. Rey felt her steps lighten as she neared and she couldn’t stop grinning as Luke stepped out in his clergy robes, pride written on his features. Kylo reached out and linked his hand with hers. 

“Lovesick fools,” Leia muttered. 

“Grandbabies,” Casterfo reminded her, kissing the back of her hand. 

Rey wasn’t sure how she made it through the ceremony, sure her cheeks would ache from smiling so much, watching as he slid an ornate opal ring on her finger. 

“I do,” he whispered, winking at her. Rey snorted and gave a slight shake of her head. Her hands dropped to her belly, feeling the life quickening within, saw Kylo gaze fondly as her, place a fatherly hand on Astrid butting up next to him. 

“Mrs. Ren,” he bowed to her before offering his arm to escort her out of the church, their friends and family following, chattering loudly. As they exited, Kylo threw coins at the gathering crowds and helped Rey into the carriage. 

“Coming to the party?” Finn asked. Kylo and Ren both said no at the same time, but for different reasons.

“Harvest is still going on,” Rey hastily explained. “I have to get back to the farm.”

“No you don’t,” Kylo quipped. “I hired all five of Farmer Goldsmith’s kids. They are taking care of it.” Rey’s mouth dropped open and Leia closed her eyes. 

“I can see how this marriage is going,” she muttered.

“Grandbabies,” Kylo and Rey said together and Rey smiled at Leia, laying her hand on her belly again. Leia’s eyes widened and a grin broke out on her face. 

“Let them go, Finn. They’ve work to do, farm work,” Leia herded Finn away, hooting with laughter. Rey and Kylo settled into the back of the carriage, headed out of town, toward their home. Pulling her close to him, Kylo tipped her head back and kissed her. 

“Now I get to do that all the time,” he cackled. She swatted him with the bouquet before tossing it behind her and laughing with him, each looking forward to tonight. A ring was a promise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> So I wrote a novel and people read it and I'm absolutely astounded. I can only hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for sticking with it and with me. May the Force be with you, always.


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